


And You, Miss Johnson

by faequeentitania



Series: Professor Solo Series [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Blow Jobs, Christmas, College Student Rey (Star Wars), Counter Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Pining, Praise Kink, Professor Ben Solo, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, fleshlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: He’d had beautiful students in his class before. Six years as an adjunct professor while he powered through his doctorate, and now in his second year of full-time teaching on the path to tenure, it would be foolish to think hewouldn’thave pretty students.The difference was that he had never been even the least bit tempted before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The much requested Ben POV! This one is still in the works, but I wanted to put something out for [Reylo AU Week!](https://reylo-au.tumblr.com/post/175084077913/reylo-au-presents-reylo-au-week-2018-dates) When there is a more solid posting schedule for this one, I shall definitely talk about it on my tumblr, as well as the author notes of chapter two. Thank you all so much for liking Good Day, Professor, the reaction to it has been amazing! Hopefully this work is just as enjoyable. :)
> 
> Shout out, as always, to [ANerdsLife4Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdslife4me) and also to [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja) for the beta reading and encouragement. You guys are spectacular. ♥

He’d had beautiful students in his class before. Six years as an adjunct professor while he powered through his doctorate, and now in his second year of full-time teaching on the path to tenure, it would be foolish to think he _wouldn’t_ have pretty students.

The difference was that he had never been even the least bit tempted before.

Then Rey Johnson shuffled into class, paused for a moment in the doorway to look at him, and then beelined straight for the front-and-center seat.

Which in and of itself wasn’t completely out of the ordinary; he had his fair share of ambitious students who vied for the front seats in his various classes, eager to prove themselves, or challenge him, depending on the circumstances. Hell, he had _been_ one of those students, hungry and determined, a driven perfectionist with a grudge and a chip on his shoulder.

That wasn’t Rey, though. She didn’t come to class like it was a battle to be won. Hell, she never even raised her hand if she could help it. She proved herself to be a competent enough student, but it was clear to him that his class was not a priority—she was definitely not an English major.

No, what caught him off guard was the way she watched him; like being front-and-center for the duration of his class was a pleasure. Like she could listen to him lecture about how dissatisfying the cafeteria coffee was for forty-five minutes instead, and still be perfectly happy.

What got him, though, _really_ got him, was the way she would depart when the class was over, taking her time to put her bag over her shoulder before giving him a brilliant smile.

“Have a good day, Professor.”

The first time she said it, it caught him so off guard that he didn’t respond, just blinking dumbly at her for a moment as she slipped out the door.

That was... different. Most of the time he was lucky he got eye contact from his students, but to have a pretty girl smile at him and wish him a good day like she had been waiting all class for the opportunity? That didn’t happen. Certainly not to him.

So he paid attention when he did roll call the following class.

“Johnson.”

“Here,” she chirped, giving him a smile that nearly made him forget to actually mark her present.

 _Johnson, Rey_ , read his attendance sheet.

 _Rey._ He bounced the name around in his head. It suited her.

He didn’t allow himself to hope for a repeat interaction; maybe she had said it on the first day of class just to see if he was susceptible to being flustered, or if she could use friendliness to get into his good graces. He still wanted to be prepared, just in case, instead of struck dumb a second time.

“Have a good day, Professor.”

Her smile was just as wide, her tone just as gentle and happy, and he felt uncharacteristically nervous when he replied, “And you, Miss Johnson.”

She looked delighted, her smile getting even wider, her gaze lingering on him as she passed by.

A dazed moment later, he realized his heart was racing and his mouth was weirdly dry.

Fuck. _Fuck._

***

He tried not to notice her. He tried to keep his gaze off of her during class, tried to let his eyes just slide right on by when he scanned the room. She made it practically impossible, of course, but he fucking _tried._

He almost wondered if he was being pranked. If someone had put her up to it, some disgruntled former student or bloodthirsty coworker, baiting him with a beautiful girl who always looked like she wanted nothing more than to listen to him speak.

The more time passed, the less likely he found that possibility. If it was really about ruining him, or making him look foolish, he would think it would have escalated, and it never did. She never tried to corner him outside of class, she never came to his office, or tried to catch him alone after the other students left.

She just smiled and bid him a good day after every lecture.

And maybe he was an idiot—no, scratch that, he was _definitely_ an idiot—but it just made him all the more curious about her. She spent class watching him with a piercing gaze, biting her lip as she crossed her legs under her desk, but she was never overt beyond that. No “innocent” or “accidental” touches, no showing up at his office unannounced. It made him wonder if he was projecting, imagining that the looks she gave him were more than what they were.

It didn't matter, he tried to convince himself. She could be doodling his name in hearts in her notebook and writing love poetry, and it still wouldn't make a difference; she was a student. That was a dead end no matter how you sliced it.

Which was why he had no clue what possessed him when he found her running on the campus track at the same time he was.

He could forgive himself his initial reaction; he had been running the track every other day (with the days in between at the gym) since he was a freshman at the very university he now taught at. And in all that time, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d had to share the track in the morning. Starting your day at 5:30am was not a popular sentiment for most college students.

But there she was, ponytail swinging and flicking side to side, wearing an oversized school hoodie and matching grey sweatpants.

She bid him good morning with that sweet, earnest smile, and he found himself exchanging _banter_ with her for God’s sake. Worse than that, he implored her to make an appointment with him, because apparently he was a lunatic as well as an idiot.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, which he was smart enough to see was code for “no thanks, but I'm trying to be polite” and honestly, it was probably for the best.

Yet he refused to believe it was just a coincidence to find her eyes on him when he finished his weightlifting routine the next week. Thank god he was already pink from exertion, making the blush that raced over his face and neck far less noticeable as his eyes rapidly took her in. Fuck, she was in a thin little tank top, a flush decorating her cheeks and down her neck and chest. She was so lovely; athletic and lithe, clear muscle definition along her arms and shoulders tensing and relaxing with every pull on the rowing machine’s handlebar, to say nothing of her beautifully shaped legs, which were clearly just as defined as her arms despite the fact that they were hidden by her gray sweatpants.

Then, to make matters worse, she gave him a little smile and nod, still using the machine, and he battled with himself for a fierce moment. He really shouldn’t. He should just nod back, then go to the locker room to get his things.

Instead he found himself crossing the room to sit on the machine next to her. God help him, he was starting to like her. She was sweet, but she seemed to have no problem teasing him; clearly not intimidated by his imposing stature or cold reputation the way most students were. It was refreshing. It was... nice, really.

Then she asked him what he _liked._ People didn't ask him what he liked. Students most certainly didn't.

“You’re asking me what shows I like to watch?” he finally asked, after looking at her for longer than was strictly polite.

“For a start. Anything you entertain yourself with when you’re not standing in front of the classroom, really.”

She seemed sincere, eyes bright and keen, that nice little smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

He cycled rapidly through his list of interests, mildly panicked about which answer would be the least humiliating.

“I enjoy a good political drama,” he decided to say.

“ _West Wing_ type stuff?”

He nodded mutely, and she grinned.

“I can see that. You seem the type.”

He bristled a little. “Meaning?”

“You’re obviously a smart man, you expect smart entertainment, that’s all. Political drama tends to fall into that category.”

Oh. That was... a flattering opinion of him.

“What about you, Miss Johnson?”

She seemed just as surprised by his interest as he had been by hers, which weirdly brought him a modicum of comfort.

“Uh, well, can’t deny I’m a sci-fi fan. Might be the reason I hope to work for NASA someday.”

“Is it cliche of me to assume _Star Trek_ type shows?”

“It might be cliche, but it is true. Yes, _Star Trek_ , among others.”

“The original, or the various spin-offs?”

“All of them? Don’t get me wrong, the original series is fantastic, it was the genesis of so much pop culture sci-fi, but the spin-offs are all quite good too. I’m not afraid to confess that I’m mildly in love with Captain Janeway from _Voyager_.”

Oh God, he was in trouble. Beautiful, sweet, _and_ loved _Star Trek_?

She pointed a finger at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk.

“Don’t you judge me, Professor Solo. _Star Trek_ is one of the most hopeful, humanitarian shows in existence and I will not be shamed for loving it. Nor will I be shamed for admiring _Star Trek_ ’s lone, badass female captain.”

“I’m not shaming you. I was mildly in love with B’Elanna Torres when I watched _Voyager_ , so it would be very hypocritical of me.”

It was always weirdly validating, finding another _Star Trek_ fan “out in the wild,” so to speak, and this felt especially satisfying, especially when she smiled brilliantly with absolute delight.

“Qapla’!” she laughed, bringing her right fist across her chest to thump her left shoulder; a Klingon salute.

Oh, she was splendid, she really was. Despite himself, he found his heartbeat fluttering, a pleased little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

That was truly the beginning of the end for him, in retrospect. Before that moment he convinced himself that he just found her attention a curiosity, a pleasant little boost to his self-esteem. It was a fucking lie, of course, but it was a lie he stubbornly maintained.

But she just kept showing up; at least once a week, but usually twice or more, he would find her on the track or in the gym with him, giving him that sweet smile and somehow coaxing him into conversations about a wild assortment of topics.

She was whip smart, he very quickly discovered, even if literary analysis was not her forte. Science most certainly was, though, and he found himself surprisingly engaged by her explanations of topics like space travel, the theoretical physics of time travel, even the biological effects of prolonged exposure to zero gravity. All subjects that would have bored him to tears when he was a student, but she somehow made dynamic and easily understood, despite the fact that he hadn't been in a science class since his sophomore year. She was also delightfully funny, constantly surprising him with smart-mouthed quips that rivaled his.

It was... nice, if he was being honest, getting to know this fearless whirlwind of a girl.

That was the part he tried to focus on, when he thought about the unusual, not-quite-friendship-but-more-than-simply-student-teacher-relationship growing between them, because that was the only part of this whole situation that was even remotely acceptable. (And even that was ethically questionable, not to mention flirting with violation of the school’s policies on staff code of conduct.)

The part that he tried to bury, the part that left him with an increasing feeling of shame, was the direction his thoughts took when it was just him at home, trying and failing to forbid his jerk-off fantasies from putting Rey at the center of them.

There were a whole host of reasons why that was simply unacceptable. It was morally unsavory, for one, fantasizing about having sex with a student. She had to be at least ten years younger than him for another, he wasn’t even sure if she was old enough to drink yet. It just felt predatory, even in his head, even though he had no intention of ever letting it escape the privacy of his late-night fantasies.

She was just so... everything. Bright and clever and beautiful, and he fucking _refused_ to say he was _smitten_. Or enamoured, or infatuated, or any other pretentious word his English doctorate brain tried to tell him he felt.

He was just _single_. Had been for nearly all of his adult life, save for a few one-time encounters scattered here and there. He simply didn’t have the _time_ to pursue relationships, he was too consumed with trying to finish his fucking PhD in under a decade while also getting his foot in the door as a teacher.

So could anyone blame him for being a bit pleased to have the attention of a pretty girl for once? Or for that attention creating an uptick in his libido, and fueling the fantasies that helped him climax after a long day of grading papers until his eyes hurt from the strain?

It’s how the insidious little devil on his shoulder tried to justify it, whenever his stupid, horny brain spiraled into a whirlwind of lustful thoughts. It didn’t make him feel less like a creep, but apparently it was enough to keep him going despite his shame.

Especially when he was restless in the middle of the night, glancing at his bedside drawer in the darkness of his bedroom.

It was supposed to be kind of a gag gift, his college roommate and a few of their mutual friends purchasing it for him when he had a bit of a meltdown somewhere in his second year of his master’s degree, what felt like a lifetime ago now.

They had teased him that he needed an outlet to blow off steam, that the stress of school was going to kill him if he didn't get a little endorphin rush once in a while, and here was a perfectly good tool to help him with that.

As much as he hated to admit it, they were at least a little bit right; their gift of a fleshlight may have been one of the only things that kept him sane when he was being crushed under an avalanche of homework.

Now he couldn't decide whether it was helping him deal with the crushing reality of wanting someone he couldn't have, or it was enabling his bad behavior. Either way, he reached for the drawer, pulling it open and reaching for it blindly.

It was easy to get hard, he’d been on the verge of arousal all damn day; thinking about her constantly since working out together in the gym, where she had most definitely, purposefully bent down to re-tie her sneaker right in front of him, the fabric of her sweatpants pulling taut over her pert, perfect ass. Then in class, she had stretched her legs out under the desk, ankles crossed and arms loosely folded as she watched him with that genteel little smile.

He’d been bold enough to gently nudge her ankle with his foot as he paced slowly from one side of the classroom to the other, earning him a wider smile from her and a gentle nudge back before she pulled her legs back under the desk to keep from tripping him.

He couldn't get that smile out of his head, couldn't stop thinking about the way her crossed arms had framed her chest, or how their playful nudging could easily be interpreted as flirting, if he allowed himself that forbidden thought.

He fumbled for the lube, using his fingers in the dark to find the opening in the fleshlight and squeeze some inside.

_“Miss Johnson, a word?”_

_“Of course.” She remained in her seat as the other students filed out, her arms still crossed across her chest and her legs stretched back out._

_The door clicked as the last person left, and he sat on the edge of his desk, giving her a look with an arched eyebrow._

_“Any particular reason you're trying to assassinate me today?”_

_She laughed, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward, resting her elbows on the desk._

_“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she said innocently, “and nor do my perfectly innocent legs.”_

_“I daresay your legs could never be called innocent.” He gave her a little smirk._

_There it was, that mischievous, coy smile that made heat spread through his abdomen. She got up from the desk, stepping slowly toward him until she was standing between his open knees._

_“You like my legs,” she murmured, “you like them wrapped around you, don't you?”_

_She leaned further into his space, her fingertips dancing along his thighs and her lips pressed close to his._

_“As much as you like wrapping them around me,” he replied softly, brushing his lips against hers until she learned in for a proper kiss._

Ben took a deep breath in and out, just rubbing his fingers over the lips of the fleshlight’s fake pussy as he let his little fantasy play out, his other hand ghosting gently over his cock.

_“Hm, sure of that, are you?” she teased against his mouth, making him smirk._

_“Guess we’ll just have to find out,” he whispered, standing up and sliding his hands under her thighs, hoisting her up._

_She gave a little gasp, smiling and kissing him as he turned to lay her across the desk, grinding gently between her legs and feeling victorious when she hooked her ankles in the small of his back with a quiet moan._

_“Hurry up, Solo, we’ve got places to be,” she teased him, squirming a little under him and squeezing with her thighs; he didn't have to be told twice._

_He leaned back, unbuttoning her jeans as she toed off her shoes, the both of them working together to get her pants off and his open._

_She touched herself as he tugged at his belt, biting her lip with her ankles up on the edge of the desk, giving him a perfect view of her pink, slick folds._

He twitched as he imagined it, wetting his lips as he brought the fleshlight to the tip of his cock, smearing his precome along the fake vulva surrounding its opening as he vividly imagined doing the same to Rey.

_“Come on Ben, stop teasing me,” she moaned softly, hooking her ankles in the small of his back again, arching as he rubbed a firm little circle against her clit with the tip of his cock before dipping lower, sliding easily through her wet folds but not pressing in yet._

_“Manners, Miss Johnson,” he smirked, even though his dick throbbed, begging to be inside her just as much as she wanted him there._

_“Please, sir,” she breathed, reaching for his forearms and trailing her fingers along them as she bit her lip. “I want to feel you.”_

_He’d be an idiot to say no to that, so he didn't, guiding himself inside her with a moan._

Ben sank the fleshlight onto his cock with a shudder, the toy’s tight opening stretching to accommodate him. It was better when he took the time to heat it with hot water, but this was still good, the tight channel wet with just the right amount of lube.

_She whined prettily, squirming and hitching her hips up into the thick press of his cock as he gave a deep moan._

_“Such a sweet, tight little cunt,” he hummed, his hips flush with hers now, feeling the blissfully snug squeeze of her muscles all around him._

_She reached for his shoulders, pulling him down with a soft groan, and he started a slow, steady pace as he kissed her still clothed breasts before trailing his way up to her throat._

_“So good,” she sighed, one of her hands digging deep into his hair and holding tight, the other gripping his shoulder with blunt fingernails._

_His hands tightened on her hips, his tongue licking along her pulse point, tasting its rapid flutter with a moan. She felt so good, so tight and wet, body soft and welcoming and beautiful._

He adjusted the suction with a little twist to the bottom of the fleshlight, slowly increasing the intensity as he crept closer to the edge, his pace getting incrementally faster.

_He shoved a hand between them, eager to hear her sounds of pleasure, and was rewarded with a gasp and a groan when his thumb swirled over her clit._

_“So lovely like this,” he murmured huskily, thrusting a little harder, a little faster, the flutter and clench of her pussy dragging pleasure up his spine. “So perfect, Rey.”_

_She moaned, a hard drag of his thumb and a sharp, deep thrust making her jerk, hand flexing in his hair._

_“Fuck, Ben,” she panted, close now, he could feel it; right there in the tension of her belly, the tightness of her hands, her thighs, her rapid breaths. She was going to come, gorgeous and sweet on his cock, sweeping him with her._

_“Good girl,” he murmured in a pant, hot and close to her ear, his whole desk shaking now with how fast and hard they were fucking. “Good girl, come on.”_

_She made the sweetest noise, the sound of it punching low and hard in his guts, and that was it, the feel of her shaking apart on his cock sent him spiraling._

Ben hissed, grinding up into the tight squeeze of the fleshlight as he came, emptying himself into the skin-warmed toy in a hot rush. Immediately on its heels was a rush of guilt, his imagining of Rey’s climax still echoing behind his eyelids.

“Fuck,” he groaned softly, loosening the bottom of the toy back up, lightening the suction so he could withdraw more easily.

A hot spatter of cum landed on his pelvis, making him curse with a grimace. He’d use the bathroom in a minute, clean himself up and wash out the toy, then hopefully he’d be relaxed enough to fall asleep.

He’d hopefully be able to get Rey out of his head too, though he put far less faith in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Uhh, also, ignore me[linking you to a scene from _Girls_ where Adam masturbates](https://youtu.be/rIqmRlozy-M?t=2m35s)... you know... for reference purposes. ::cough::~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, an update!

Trying to grade papers was futile. It was absolutely impossible, when all he could think about was what had happened.

He should have told her to move. Or moved away himself. He should have insisted on it, really, but he couldn’t make the words leave his mouth, or get his stupid legs to carry him elsewhere in the theater.

Instead he just felt frozen, blindsided by her unexpected presence and too foolish to be as responsible as he should.

He had barely been able to concentrate on the play; not with her leaning her arm against his, offering him popcorn and looking simply perfect in her black jeans and oversized sweatshirt, her hair in these unusual, but cute, three little buns down the back of her head.

It just wasn’t acceptable, the way his ridiculous imagination was racing, picturing far too vividly what she would look like if he had put his hand in her lap, had coaxed her jeans down just enough to get his fingers in her underwear, right there in the theater.

He read the same question and answer on the quiz he was grading for the third time in a row before throwing his red pen down in frustration.

He felt utterly ridiculous, he _was_ utterly ridiculous; he was a grown man for god’s sake, and there he was getting wound up and horny to the point of distraction over a couple of hours in the presence of a girl.

Not just a girl, a _student_. His student. A _sophomore_ undergrad. Who might not even be old enough to drink.

A sophomore undergrad student in his class, who for some mysterious, baffling reason, seemed to have a very high opinion of him. Which was not a completely alien concept in and of itself; he had seen a fair amount of favorable student evaluations through the years, mostly from English majors in the upper levels, but occasionally from his more general classes too.

No, what was baffling was the fact that her opinion stemmed completely separate from her experience with him inside the classroom. She had more or less told him that he was too demanding as a teacher, too cruel, yet every time their paths crossed, she seemed all too happy to be near him.

She had called him _chivalrous_ for god’s sake. He didn’t think he had ever been called chivalrous. More than that, she had rebuked his assertion that he was an asshole, and had even seemed sad at the suggestion, in fact.

 _“You’re not an asshole to me,”_ she had said.

He tried not to be, that was true, though he felt sure somehow that he had inevitably said things that most people would consider “asshole-ish,” even if that hadn’t been his intent. Meaning Rey was either very forgiving or very tolerant of his errant mouth.

He ran his fingers through his hair with a long sigh, then turned off his desk light, calling it a night. He just had to accept that he was too distracted.

What he tried _not_ to accept was his body’s tense demand that he work through the pent up sexual frustration that had been building in him since the moment she sat down beside him at the theater, giving him that sweet, teasing look of hers.

His mind jumped back to his fleeting fantasy of touching her in the theater, despite his best efforts to push it away. He tried to distract himself with his evening routine instead, taking extra care with every detail of the process in his attempt to keep his brain from falling down that dangerous path.

He also tried his best to ignore the half-erection his nervous system was insistent on creating, which was not helping in the slightest to wind down the restless energy he had been battling all evening.

“Jesus Christ, get a grip,” he snapped at himself, thunking his closed fist against his bare abdomen a few times as he stood barely dressed in his bedroom, the outline of his cock standing out against the burgundy fabric of his boxer shorts.

He took a deep breath in and out, the sting of the hits not doing as much as he wished it did to refocus him, so he shifted to plan B.

He got on the floor, determinately making himself do push-ups to burn the excess energy coiling in his muscles.

It was not uncommon for him to do, admittedly; it was a coping mechanism he had ingrained into himself years ago. It was healthier by far as a means to deal with his anger, instead of the destruction that had been his previous inclination.

Now he was using it to cope with horniness, which was as infuriating as it was humiliating. He thought he had left that behind in his twenties, thought he was through the stage in his life where his hormones drove him just as hard as his long-standing rage.

Sweat was dripping off the end of his chin by the time his arms were too tired to continue, so he flopped unceremoniously onto his back instead, switching to alternating between crunches and full sit-ups.

He tried to let the exertion make his brain slip into a state of white noise, where he could focus on the burn of his muscles, the sensation of his sweat dripping down his skin, the quick pace of his breathing. It was all he wanted, just quiet in his head so he could stop envisioning Rey and hopefully get some sleep. 

Instead his cock kept throbbing, his increased heart rate just making it worse. He had hoped to wear himself out to the point he’d be too tired for a hard on, too tired to think about Rey squirming and gasping on his fingers in a dark theater.

Instead he was aching in his boxer shorts, each shift of the fabric as he moved rubbing against the sensitive tip torturously.

He let out a frustrated string of curses, the back of his head making a dull thud against the floor as he collapsed back, roughly shoving his hand into his boxers when he couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't stop his mind from following the path it had been trying to go down all night, picturing himself back in that theater, with Rey sitting beside him.

_It was the second act, and he should be watching the screen. It was a good play, it deserved his attention._

_But she was just so warm, pressed against his arm and her crossed legs nearly touching his, which was somehow more tantalizing than if she were actually touching him._

_He shifted, widening his knees until they actually did touch and leaning towards her with sudden decision._

_“Open your legs,” he murmured softly, reaching over to lay his hand on her knee, satisfied when she immediately obeyed. “Unbutton your jeans.”_

_Her breath sighed out with a little shudder. “Right here?”_

_“Right here,” he purred. “And you’re going to be nice and quiet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”_

_She shuddered again, but did what he told her to, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down just enough for him to get his first two fingers under the elastic of her underwear and between her legs._

_She turned her face toward him with a shiver, and a hot puff of her breath through the fabric at his shoulder made heat pool low in his belly. A second later she was reaching over to quietly undo his belt._

_“Anyone could catch us,” she murmured softly, even as her hand slid into his underwear to stroke warmly over his cock._

_“Makes it exciting, don’t you think?” he answered just as softly, rubbing a slow circle around her clit that made her squirm._

_She didn’t answer, but the squeeze of her hand and the wetness that coated his fingers when he dipped them down between her folds was all the reply he needed._

Ben clenched his jaw, breathing fast through his nose as he jerked himself harshly, squeezing tight around his cock with rapid strokes. He just needed to come. If he could just come, he’d be able to stop thinking about her, he’d be able to put the fantasy away and get his head on straight.

_Rey’s hand on him was warm and tight, the leak of precum from the tip of his dick the only thing easing her short strokes. She was going to make a mess of him, leave him tacky and dirty for the rest of the play, but he really couldn't care when she rubbed her thumb in a tight, dirty circle against the head._

_He shuddered, replicating her motion with his fingers against her clit, a possessive thrill racing down his spine at her suppressed whimper against his shoulder._

_Another hard rub and she gripped his wrist with a soft gasp, her hand faltering on him for a second as she squirmed onto the touch._

_“That’s it,” he whispered, rubbing faster with a little groan as her hand resumed it's hard, tight strokes to match the pace of his fingers. “That’s it, sweetheart, come on.”_

_She came with another gasp, her thighs squeezing around his hand._

He cupped his balls in his other hand as he roughly worked the head of his cock, still imagining Rey squirming and gasping under his touch until his orgasm shivered down his spine in a hot burst.

“Fuuuuuuck...” he grit out, arching a little off the floor as spatters of cum landed thickly on his belly and chest.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself a few moments later, the thought suddenly occurring to him that he had probably just gotten spunk on his carpet, like the total idiot he was.

He allowed himself a few moments to pant and collect himself before getting up.

He had, in fact, gotten cum on his floor, and he cursed colorfully in frustration. He never thought he’d have to google “how to get semen out of carpet” as a thirty year old man. (A paste made of baking soda and water, as it turned out.)

He was still berating himself when he got in the shower, washing away the sweat and the guilty evidence of his jerk-off session before he went to bed.

The problem was that now that he had worked through the dirty little fantasy pressing on the back of his head all night, he couldn't stop thinking about everything else.

He had been surprised to hear about her history, though he guessed he shouldn't have been; in retrospect, it dawned on him that none of their previous conversations had ever featured anything about a family. Not that he brought up his mess of a family to anyone if he could help it. He nearly had though, poised to spill his guts right there in that cafe before he caught himself, forced himself to bite his tongue.

That had startled him, how readily he had been willing to tell her about his history, about how absolutely ignored he had felt growing up; how it had made him feel like his own brand of orphan in many ways.

He washed the shampoo out of his hair with a long sigh, his arms aching from the push-ups and less-than-gentle way he had handled himself.

_“I’m an asshole, remember? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”_

_“I think you do very well pretending to be an asshole, there’s a difference.”_

Then there was that; that single sentence had knocked him sideways, there was no two ways about it. It had left him feeling shockingly raw, like she had cut him right open and immediately seen to the absolute roots of him. He couldn't shake her words loose from his head, couldn't stop fixating on them.

That’s what was so damning about this whole affair; it wasn't just that she was beautiful, though she certainly was. Just beautiful he could handle, he’d had attractive students for the past seven years he had been a teacher. It was that she was so completely unhesitant in her regard for him, open about the fact that she didn't find him as awful as so many others seemed to.

She had sought him out in the theater tonight, she had teased him about his licorice, she had bantered with him about _The Catcher in the Rye_. She was treating him like a friend, like someone she enjoyed, like someone she wanted to be with.

The problem was that he felt the same way about her. The more time they spent together, the more trouble he had thinking of her as a student, and that was dangerous for both of them.

He couldn't have that kind of bias for a student directly under his tutelage; Snoke would have his head. The English department was one of the most prestigious at the university, and as head of the department, Snoke had personally overseen the selection of teachers that staffed under him. Ben had worked hard to prove himself worthy of hiring, and any accusations of favoritism were taken very seriously.

He sighed again as he let the water wash the soap from his skin, just standing for a few minutes more under the hot spray.

He needed to be more careful. Working out together in the mornings he could still probably get away with, as it was not unreasonable for them both to use a campus facility at the same time. But if they saw each other in town like that again, he would have to insist on keeping her at a distance.

He went to bed with wet hair, which would be annoying as hell to deal with in the morning, but at least his body finally felt heavy with tiredness, and his mind felt slightly clearer.

Clear enough, at least, to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I still don't have a regular update schedule for this I'm afraid, but I wanted to give you guys some more anyway. I would say that I’m roughly halfway-ish through writing this fic, and I’ve discovered in recent years that I’m definitely the kind of writer that needs to complete a work before starting to truly post it. Mostly because I’ll go through periods of intense productivity followed by days of being stuck, so that doesn’t really lend itself to posting chapter-by-chapter regularly. I can assure you, though, that I'm still chugging away at it (around 19,000 words and counting!) so I'm hoping to complete it soon. Thank you for bearing with me, I love you all! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a small crisis over where the heck I'm taking this fic so I'm publishing chapter 3 to KEEP MYSELF MOTIVATED. I'm going to get this fucker done by the end of November if it's the last thing I do!

He knew it. He fucking _knew it_.

The old man was either some supernatural warlock or else had spies planted around town (either felt plausible, in all honesty) because no sooner had Ben sat down in his office to log in to his university email when it pinged with a message from his head of department: _Come to my office after your 2pm class._

It made his day feel like a funeral march, and he was half convinced that he would be leaving Snoke’s office with a pink slip, frantically thinking of how much he had in savings, what universities might be willing to take him, and which of his belongings he’d be willing to part with on eBay.

His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest as he knocked on the door to Snoke’s office.

“It opens.”

He turned the knob and stepped through, swallowing nervously when it clicked shut behind him.

“Ah, Solo. Sit.”

He sat, crossing his legs in an attempt to look relaxed.

“How do you find your workload this year, Solo?”

Ben hated this ploy; acting like this was a casual chat, just a little check-in. Snoke was drawing out the agony of giving Ben a talking-to, and he knew it, but there wasn't a damn thing Ben could do about it.

“Perfectly fine, sir,” Ben answered. “I appreciate the balance of introductory courses and advanced.”

Smoke hummed, steepling his fingers as he nodded amiably. “Good, good.”

Which meant that if this meeting went poorly, Ben would be stuck with nothing but the hellscape of 101 classes for the upcoming semesters until Snoke deemed that he had paid his penitence. Ben mutely cursed at himself for being a fucking idiot.

“And what of your selection of students this semester?”

“What of them?”

“Any that catch your interest? Any that show strong promise in the field, perhaps?”

“Some,” Ben hedged vaguely, keeping his face and voice passive. “You’re aware of how the freshmen are, sir. Some were too comfortable in their far less challenging high school courses, so are quite rudely awakened when they reach our doors. Some seem up for the challenge, though.”

Snoke hummed again, the old man giving him that piercing stare, but Ben absolutely refused to give him anything that he did not specifically and explicitly ask about, and even then Ben was prepared to lie if he thought he could get away with it.

“It’s been brought to my attention that there is a student you are spending personal time with.”

Finally cutting the bullshit, then. Ben swallowed before answering, “Personal time, sir?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” Snoke’s voice and stare were icy. “If you continue to see Rey Johnson outside of class, it will put your tenure at this university in jeopardy. She is a student under your tutelage, Solo; I will not have a scandal in this department and I certainly won’t have accusations of abuse of authority. Am I clear?”

It felt like Ben had swallowed ice, freezing him from the inside out.

“Crystal clear, sir,” he forced out.

“Good,” Snoke growled, leaning back in his chair with another glare. “You may leave.”

Ben rose from his seat and left, humiliation burning through him like a fire. How long had Snoke been aware of Rey? They were halfway through the semester, and their habitual mornings spent exercising together had been going on for weeks. Had Snoke been biding his time, waiting to see just how spectacularly Ben would fuck up?

He knew that growing closer to Rey was unwise, that Snoke would not approve, but Ben had let it happen anyway. This needed to stop.

***

He was an asshole. A catastrophically obnoxious asshole.

He ground his forehead against the shower wall, so very, very tempted to put his fist through the tile.

It would serve him right, to break his hand. A completely just punishment, when Rey might have a broken ankle, entirely because of him.

Entirely because he was acting like a coward. Because he thought it was better to drive her away with a cold shoulder than tell her the truth.

He sure as fuck had driven her away now.

But the way she had leaned into him, when he was carrying her; she wasn’t tense, she wasn’t jittery. She had put her arms around him, she had let him carry her like she trusted him.

A trust he had most certainly abused by putting her in that position to begin with, and had probably damaged even further when he had took off instead of waiting at the health center to make sure she was okay.

He kept trying to tell himself it was for the best; if she hated him, there wasn’t any risk of them doing anything else stupid, anything that could cost him his job and possibly get her expelled, if Snoke pushed hard enough to punish them.

It still didn’t change the fact that he felt like shit. Doubly so when she limped into class with crutches a couple days later, her ankle absent of a cast, which he was relieved about, but clearly badly sprained.

He didn’t think he could feel much lower until class ended, and she departed without a word.

That was worse. That was so much worse than her confronting him about it would have been, he was sure. At least if she had tried to corner him to convince him to talk, he could have apologized, maybe even forced himself to tell her the truth. Complete silence, not even an acknowledgement or faked pleasantries, though... that felt like a guillotine.

There was a part of him that was fiercely tempted to seek her out; to ask her to wait after class, or come to his office to try to smooth things between them. It was only Snoke’s warning that kept him from doing so, and he hated that the old man held that much power over him.

He had no choice but to suffer in silence, and try to get his life back to normal. Back to a pre-Rey state, despite the fact that he would have to see her three times a week for the rest of the year.

He never expected that she would seek him out instead.

He didn’t think anything of it when there was a knock on his office door; maybe one of his afternoon appointments had come around early, or a fellow staff member needed him for something.

“Enter.”

He was halfway through a paragraph in a student paper about _Othello_ , so he asked whoever it was that had just slipped through the door to wait.

When he finally raised his head, it took all of his willpower not to let his emotions show.

“Ah. Miss Johnson.”

Fucking smooth, Solo.

“Professor Solo.”

Silence. She seemed nervous, apprehensive, which matched pretty perfectly with the anxious knot in his stomach.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked, at a loss of what else to say. She hadn’t been using the crutches for almost a week now, which was a good sign.

“Better.” Rey nodded. “Still a bit sore, but healed enough that I don't need the crutches anymore, which is a relief. I just can't overwork it.”

He nodded, clenching his jaw and swallowing. “That’s... good. I'm glad you’re on the mend.”

“Thank you. I am too.”

More silence that he had no clue how to break, the two of them just staring at each other uncomfortably.

“I think we need to have a talk,” she finally said, making his heart race and the knot in his stomach get even tighter. “About the day I hurt my ankle, to start.”

Right. Time to be out with it, then.

He let his breath out in a long sigh, looking down at his desk as he clenched his jaw again. He then waved her toward the chair in front of his desk.

She sat, sliding her bag off and setting it on the floor beside her.

“I’m sorry, for that,” he said softly. It had been eating him up with guilt, as a matter of fact, but he didn’t voice that part. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“What did you mean to do, then?” She cut straight to it, though she seemed apprehensive. “Why did you ignore me?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, weighing the merits of lying. He probably should; tell her that he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, tell her that he had gotten tired of her following him around and slowing down his mornings with her chatter. It would keep her at arm’s length, making her think he felt that way, but the idea of voicing any such thing made his mouth feel sour, and he forced himself to finally raise his eyes to look at her.

“I thought it would be... easier.”

“Easier than what? Have I done something to tick you off?”

“No,” he sighed, “easier than this conversation.”

She was watching him with trepidation, waiting for him to continue, so he forced the words out of his mouth.

“It would seem...” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, “that one of my colleagues saw us getting coffee, and made an assumption that they then passed on to the head of the English department.”

A blush crept over her face, making his humiliation over the whole situation flare in his chest. It was bad enough that he felt like this, he hated that she did too, now.

“So it was made very clear to me that I needed to act in a more professional manner.”

“I never wanted you to get in trouble because of me,” she interjected, looking borderline desperate as she leaned forward in her chair. “Please, please believe that.”

He hadn’t imagined that she had, but he gave a little nod anyway, fiddling nervously with a stack of papers on his desk.

“Either way, I think it might be best if our interactions are restricted to the classroom going forward.”

She nodded, looking upset and embarrassed, and he almost wished he had lied to her, rather than make her feel like she was at fault here. She wasn’t, this was all on him, he was the teacher, he shouldn’t have let it get this far to begin with.

“I understand. Good afternoon, Professor Solo.”

It was stupid, how much he had missed hearing her say that.

“Good afternoon, Miss Johnson.”

At least he got that small slice of comfort back. After two weeks of sullen silence on her way out of class, she returned to wishing him a good day. More subdued, less jubilant that before, but seemingly earnest.

The rest of the semester passed by in a blur. He felt frustratingly out of sorts, like he had been coasting along on a nice smooth road, then suddenly found himself on dirt.

He took it out on the gym equipment when he could, more and more frequently ending up there in the evenings as well as the mornings. He was driving himself harder than he had in years, just trying to feel like he had some semblance of control back, even if it was just control of his body. Sometimes it felt like the only tether he had, when everything else in his life seemed out of his hands.

“You gearing up for something or what, Solo?”

Ben’s pull-ups were interrupted by an annoyingly familiar, snide voice.

“What?” he grunted in answer to Hux’s vague question, and the ginger man snorted.

“You, Solo. You’re training like you’re about to be expected to fight off a hoard of invaders with your bare hands. Know something the rest of us don’t?”

Ben grunted again as he continued his pull-ups, sparing his collegue a passing glance. “No. I just want to.”

“I see,” Hux replied dryly, crossing his arms as he continued to watch.

“Is there something I can actually help you with, Armitage?” Ben eventually panted, dropping to the ground and shaking out his arms. “Or are you just admiring the view?”

A sour expression twisted down the corner’s of Hux’s mouth, giving Ben a petty satisfaction.

To say that he and Armitage Hux just barely tolerated each other in a professional capacity was putting it nicely. By all rational means, they should be friends or at least friendly; both were English professors, both appreciative of similar writers, both around the same age. Instead, there had been nothing but iciness practically from day one, Ben hating Hux’s snide, haughty attitude and holier-than-thou opinion of himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Hux drawled in answer, giving Ben a once over with barely tempered contempt. “Now that you don’t have that simpering girl trailing after you.”

_Simpering girl?!_

Ben felt the back of his neck and ears get hot with anger, scowling at Hux and practically snarling.

_“Simpering girl?”_ he challenged, barely containing himself when Hux smirked back with malice.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” he purred, infuriating Ben even more. “She must have been really something. Never figured you for the type to get strung out over a piece of ass, Solo, especially undergrad ass.”

“I’m not _strung out_ over anyone,” Ben growled, stepping closer to Hux in anger. “Nor do I fuck my students.”

Hux hummed with false contemplation, far more gleeful about his hold on the conversation than he had any right to be.

“No, you just do nice, cozy coffee dates, don’t you?”

_Fucking fuck!_ Ben’s hands were shaking he was clenching them so hard, and the gut-deep desire to punch Hux’s stupid, smirking face in was practically boiling in his blood. Hux was the one who told Snoke, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind, the rat-faced bastard.

“You clearly have no clue what you’re talking about,” Ben growled softly, still fighting with himself to keep from hitting the man. “Now are you going to keep wasting my time, or can I get back to my workout?”

Hux looked insufferably pleased with himself, making Ben hate him even more, and he gave a soft snort through his nose as he took a step back.

“Be careful, Solo. Can’t let pretty little girls sidetrack your promising career.”

Ben pushed past him, his neck and ears still burning with rage, but he refused to play into Hux’s little game anymore. He would not give that pretentious, stuck-up asshole any more ammunition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, _huge_ shout out to all the wonderful people who leave me feedback, not only on this fic but any others you lovely people deem worthy to read and comment on! I'm pretty garbage at responding to every comment on AO3 but please don't ever think I don't love and appreciate every single one of you. You took time out of your day to not only read my stuff, but to tell me if you liked it, and that is superbly awesome of you. Thank you times a million. ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst... guess what? This fic is officially going to update every Wednesday and Sunday until it's complete! Yay!

He had never, ever been chewed out by a student the way Rey was now. No one had ever dared, not even when he had been a lowly teacher’s aid. He’d had confrontations, of course, student’s pissed off and squawking about how unfairly he had graded their work, but never a fucking dress down like she was doing.

It made him so _angry_ ; at her, at himself, at Snoke, at Hux—every single person who had worked to put him in this infuriating position. He was fucked no matter what he did, and her refusal to back down from this was just making it worse.

“This is punishment, isn't it, for what happened after _Frankenstein_? Some kind of revenge?”

It felt like a slap, her using that against him, and he felt his face grow hot.

“No,” he grit through his teeth, glaring at her with a scowl that she returned with equal ferocity.

“Bullshit, of course it is,” she growled, eyes practically steely with anger. “You’re punishing me to prove to your boss that you don't favor me.”

“If I favored you, don't you think I would have given you A’s this semester?” he asked haughtily, livid when she just gave a cruel laugh.

“No, of course not! That’d be suspicious as fuck, you never give A’s. But you don't want to be accused of pushing a student through with a passing grade when they didn't deserve it. Your reputation is more important than being fair to me.”

“That’s not true,” he husked out instantly, and she fixed him with a cold, flat stare.

“Then have the fucking guts to fix my grade.”

_It was not that fucking easy._ Why couldn’t she understand that? A change in her grade would all but guarantee a summons to Snoke’s office. He had already risked too much with this girl, he couldn’t keep pushing his luck or it _would_ run out, then what would he do?

“I am _sorry_ that you got in trouble because of me. I never wanted that to happen, and if you've gotten it in your head that I was trying to manipulate you or something you’re just straight fucking wrong. I'm sorry, okay? I'm so fucking _sorry_.”

Fuck, no, no no no no, anything but tears. He’d gladly take more verbal abuse if it meant that she wouldn’t cry, his heart couldn’t take it. He didn’t need that guilt, he didn’t need that hurt.

“But guess what?” she pressed on, her lip fucking _quivering_ but her voice regaining its steadiness. “I'm not sorry for the time I spent with you. And I'm not sorry for daring to like you, though I'm sure that ruins your stupid ‘asshole teacher’ reputation, having a student who’s actually fond of you. You think I dragged my ass out of bed at 6am to run that stupid track just for the hell of it? Of course not, I did it to spend time with you, I wanted to know you. And I'm not sorry for enjoying that time, for liking to talk to you like that.”

He was stunned. Completely, utterly stunned, shocked into complete silence. What could he say to that? Certainly not what he was thinking.

_Every time I see you, you are the best part of my day. Every time I leave my home in the morning I hope that you’ll join me, that I’ll get to see you in that ridiculously big hoodie, I love the way it swallows you up, I love seeing you get all pink when we run. I love that you never look like you’re disappointed to see me, that you can still say all these things to me after I let you down._

No, he couldn’t say any of those things, not even when tears spilled down her cheeks as she reached into her bag, pulling out her paper and tossing it onto his desk.

“Do what you will,” she said softly, her voice strained. “I can't make you fix it. Enjoy your holiday break, Professor Solo, and have a good afternoon.”

Ben collapsed down onto his chair the moment the door closed behind her, his head in his hands.

Fuck. _Fuck_ how had he let his life get this complicated? He’d been running from complicated for years, he’d gone out of his way to escape the chaotic complicated of his ridiculous family, and he’d been damn good at it. How had he let one girl twist him up like this?

He raised his eyes to stare at her paper where she had left it on his desk, and the hastily scrawled “68%, D” he had written at the top.

It wasn’t a fair grade. He knew it wasn’t, because he had agonized over giving it to her, mainly because she was right; there was nothing really technically wrong with her paper.

If this has been turned in at an upper level course, it would have been unacceptable, it lacked a truly in-depth expansion on her thesis and the bare minimum number of sources. This was not, however, an upper level course; it was a 101, and though he stood by his critique that it was a boring paper, boring papers could still hit every checkmark of what was expected of them, and she had, for the most part.

She was a proficient writer, she hadn’t been lying about the lack of grammar or spelling mistakes; either she was very good at self-review or else had access to someone who was willing to look it over for her for such errors. And her points, though predictable, were nevertheless true and academically solid.

Which left him with the simple truth that he had most certainly graded down, afraid that Snoke would demand to see her paper before allowing Ben to give her a passing grade, raking him through the coals all the while.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair, guilt eating away at his guts. None of this was her fault, _he_ was the teacher, he was the one who should have been more strict about how they interacted, more conscious of how it could affect them both.

He opened his laptop with an aggravated growl, hitting the keys harder than strictly necessary as he logged in to the gradebook portal.

“It was just a mistype,” he practiced the lie out loud. “Simple mistake, I’ve made it before, 78 is the correct grade.”

He typed in the new number, watching her final grade go up to a C+.

Rey Johnson had officially passed his class, and he would face any scrutiny from Snoke that came down the road.

***

God, he was so pathetic. He should be better than this, he should have more control of himself.

Instead he just pressed another growl into his pillow, sinking his teeth into the breath-warmed fabric and thrusting a little harder.

He tried not to think of how he must look, knees clenching on either side of the folded pillow, thrusting into the fleshlight crammed into the crease. He had even taken the time to warm the toy this time, hating himself for the indulgence even as the pleasure of sinking inside it made goosebumps break out over his skin.

He hated himself for the fantasy playing out behind his eyes even more.

_“Fuck, Ben,” she gasped, holding tight to the fistfuls of the sheets she had in each hand._

_It was filthy like this; rough and wet and hard, and exactly what they both needed. Soft and gentle had its place, but not when he was wound this tight, and not when she got so turned on by him coming home with frustration hanging around him like a thundercloud, blood running hot like he could take on the world._

_He didn't have to take on the world now, he got to take her; got to sink his teeth into the back of her neck and bring his hand down in a stinging slap on her pert, perfect ass._

_She gasped, clenching and squirming at the impact with a low moan._

_“Again,” she rasped, perfect thing that she was, squirming again and nearly throwing off his rhythm._

_“Greedy,” he husked, but obeyed anyway, bringing his hand down in another sharp smack._

_She gave him the most delicious noises, clenching tighter with every impact of his hand on either cheek, the skin beneath his palm growing hot._

_He had to see, had to watch her ass flush from the hits, had to lean back so he could look at the perfection that was his cock pumping inside her while he spanked her asscheeks red._

_“Fuck, I need to touch myself,” she whined, twisting the sheets in her hands with threadbare control. “God, please, sir, can I?”_

_“Yes,” he could barely force out, so close to losing it he could hardly think, hardly breathe, hardly do anything but dig his fingers into the hit-sensitive skin of her ass as she forced a frantic hand down to her clit._

_She gave a loud moan, from his grip or her own rapid touch between her legs he wasn't sure, all he knew was that a minute later she was coming, loud and tight and thrashing—_

Ben shoved the sound of his moan into the pillow beneath his face, bringing one hand down between his legs to brace the fleshlight when his thrusts got too rough for it to stay in place.

The momentary inconvenience distracted from his fantasy, but not enough to stop the runaway train that was his climax.

“God— fuck—" he wheezed, grinding in hard when the sudden snap of it gripped his insides, pulsing his release into the slick squeeze of his toy.

For once, he let his brain float in the white noise of his orgasm for a while, grinding his forehead against the pillow and catching his breath.

It had been a bad day. The last of the semester, and instead of peacefully tidying his office and fielding last minute emails from his students, he had endured the humiliation that was a dressing down from Snoke.

He had been expecting it, had been waiting on pins and needles since Rey’s outburst at him the day before for Snoke to take his turn berating him, but it didn't make it any less unpleasant. Especially when Snoke decided to do it in Ben’s own office.

It felt so much more invasive, so much more uncomfortable to have his boss intrude on his personal space in order to interrogate him.

“I understand that Miss Rey Johnson had a change of grade,” he said coldly, not even bothering with pleasantries as he stared icily at Ben.

Ben kept his face as blank as possible, the rehearsed lie easily falling out of his mouth, even while his hands tightly gripped the back of his office chair as he stood behind it.

“It was just a mistype,” he said with a passive shrug. “Simple mistake, I’ve made it before. Easily fixed.”

“‘Before’ didn't revolve around a girl you’ve proven yourself vulnerable to.”

“Vulnerable to?” Ben repeated, hackles already raised at Snoke’s tone and phrasing but trying to keep his temper in check.

“Her assignment should have been peer reviewed,” Snoke growled. “Why didn't you?”

“I didn’t see a reason to,” Ben insisted. “I'm perfectly capable of grading my own students.”

He also didn't trust anyone to not get nosy about his reason for asking; it was bad enough that Hux had his stupid fingers in Ben’s affairs. And Ben flat out didn't trust Snoke not to fail her out of spite.

“Are you?” his boss asked icily. “Or are you letting your libido dictate your dealings with her?”

Fuck, he was tired of people accusing him of fucking a student. Even more tired of the assumption that was all Rey had to offer, that sex was all he would want from her.

“I am _not_ —" Ben growled, just barely keeping his temper in check, “—nor have I _ever_ allowed any interaction with a student to become sexual. Miss Johnson’s grade was entirely reflective of the work she turned in, period.”

Which wasn't a lie, making it easy to stand his ground. He was the one that had been unfairly hard on her.

Snoke didn’t look like he believed him, glaring for a moment longer with intense scrutiny that made Ben’s skin crawl.

“The reputation of his department and university will not be jeopardized by you again,” he eventually growled. “You are most fortunate that I have decided not to pursue this further, and risk shadow on my department. But if anything like this happens again, I will have to seriously consider your longevity here. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” Ben grit out. “Perfectly understood.”

“Good.”

The reason Snoke wasn’t pursuing it was the fact that Rey had barely squeaked in above a passing grade. Proving to HR that Rey was sleeping with him for good grades would be a difficult angle to sell, and would do nothing but shine a spotlight on the English Department that Snoke didn’t want.

Knowing that didn’t really soothe the nauseous anxiety in his stomach, and he left his office for the semester on edge and angry.

He had hit the gym hard afterwards, trying to exhaust himself, imagining the punching bag was Snoke and Hux’s faces in turns. He just wanted to put this semester behind him, he didn’t want to think about it anymore, he just wanted to go back to living a life that was quiet and drama-free. He had worked to live his adult life like that, he deserved to have it.

Because what he really wanted, he couldn’t have. What he really wanted was the woman he couldn’t get out of his head, the woman that was simultaneously the root of his problems and the single greatest thing he’d experienced in the last ten years.

So he gave in to his ridiculous desires the only way he could, imagining her in his bed and around his body as he pathetically fucked a synthetic pussy wedged in a folded pillow.

He wouldn’t see her again, at least. Maybe here and there around campus, but she wouldn’t be in his class, he wouldn’t have to handle three days a week with her beautiful face watching him like there was no place on earth she’d rather be.

Tonight was the last night he would let himself have this. He would take winter break to detox Rey Johnson from his psyche, and he would get on with his life.

***

How. Was. This. Happening.

He was being karmically punished, he had to be. The universe was cruelly enacting some kind of revenge on him, comeuppance for any and every shitty thing he had ever done.

It was bad enough that the universe had thrown such a wholly unattainable girl into his path in the first place, and now they were _neighbors?!_

He had been a complete, gaping moron about it to boot; staring at her like she was from outer space the first time they saw each other in their shared hallway, then immediately berating himself as soon as he closed his door behind him.

Not only had he acted like a freaking deer in the headlights, but he had also piled on the added discomfort of asking why she was there, like he didn’t already know her family situation.

It was fine. It was _all fine_. It’s not like he went out much when he wasn’t teaching, so there was no reason to assume that it would even be an issue. That would probably be the only time they saw each other for the rest of break. _It was fine._

***

She was in his living room, sleeping on his sofa, and he was having a crisis.

Not only had he invited Rey Johnson into his apartment, but he had also offered to let her stay the night. _Stay the night!_ What was he thinking?

He wasn’t, clearly, as was evidenced by the fact that he had also been crazy enough to let her borrow his clothes to sleep in, with no forward thought to the absolute _gut-punch_ it would be to see her in such a way.

He also kept replaying every aspect of their conversation in his head, picking himself apart for every stupid thing that had come out of his mouth.

He had told her about his calligraphy hobby, for god’s sake. Who in their right mind does that? She had laughed about it, because of course she did, who wouldn’t? But she had also seemed weirdly charmed by it too, her encouragement for him to pick it up again seemingly earnest; leaving him simultaneously still embarrassed by his admission but also foolishly hopeful that she didn’t think he was a complete freak.

“You are a freak,” he sighed at himself in the darkness of his room, rubbing his hand against his forehead in frustration. He was laying in bed obsessing over his interactions with a girl he had sworn he wasn’t going to let affect him anymore. Grade A Freak.

Worse than that, his stupid brain was stuck on the image of her, hair damp and cheeks pink from the hot water, looking so little in his clothes. His shirt was definitely a dress on her, and his sweatpants laughably long, but instead of looking silly she had looked remarkable. Like he could spend a thousand weekends exactly like this, with her cozy in his clothes and perfect for keeping in his bed.

It made him wonder what she usually wore to sleep. Some kind of cute pajama set maybe, with cartoon characters on it and a silly phrase like “No Coffee = No Talkie.” Or just a plain nightgown, perhaps, or just panties and a tank shirt.

Living in a dorm most likely ruled out the possibility that she slept naked, sexy as that mental image was. Rey didn’t seem the type to force that potential uncomfortableness on her roommate, especially because she seemed to be good friends with her. She wasn't with her roommate over break though; she had an apartment to herself, she could sleep naked if she wanted to.

He really should stop letting his brain fall down this path. She was _in his home_ for god’s sake, if self-control was prudent for him to have at any time, it was now. Of course, if the last four months had proved anything, it was that his self control was laughably weak as far as Rey was concerned.

As was evidenced by the erection that was starting to press against the front of his boxer shorts.

He sighed, staring at the dark ceiling and trying to tell his dick to chill out, which went about as well as it usually did; the more he tried not to think about her, the more the mental image of her pressed behind his eyes.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” he berated himself, shamefully licking his palm before roughly pulling the pillow out from under his head and pressing it over his face as he finally shoved his spit-wet hand into his boxers.

He wasn’t going to use the fleshlight. He would have to clean it after, and the idea of her catching him rinsing out a synthetic pussy in the middle of the night was too horrific to bear thinking about. No, just his hand would do. His hand, and his entirely too vivid imagination.

_Rey groaned, her hands digging into his chest as she balanced herself over him, sinking down onto his cock in a slow, torturous slide._

_“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed softly, watching with complete captivation as she bit her lip, rocking her hips as she adjusted around him with fluttering pulses of her sinfully tight pussy. “God, Rey...”_

_She gave another little groan, looking at him with pleasure-heavy eyes as she started to move, rising up and sinking down in a quick, eager rhythm that made pleasure spark up his spine in little bursts._

Ben stifled a strangled little sound into the pillow pressed over his face, the oppressive weight of it making it harder to breathe, but that did nothing to dampen his arousal, precum leaking from the head of his cock and adding to the wetness of his hand.

_He slid his hands up her sides, licking his lips as he cupped her breasts, her nipples pebbled and flushed and begging for his mouth._

_He curled up, propping himself up with his elbow as his other arm slid around her back, coaxing her forward until he could lick a hot stripe over her chest, relishing the moan of want that vibrated through her throat._

_“God...” she breathed, her hand reaching up and digging into his hair, holding tight. “God, yes, keep doing that, Ben, please.”_

_He hummed in agreement, nibbling gently along her breast, then soothing with his tongue before taking her nipple between his teeth and giving a gentle tug. She gasped in answer, her whole body spasming with pleasure, tightening her around him in a hard clench that took his breath._

_“Oh fuck, fuck!” she gasped, tight little grinds of her hips driving him mad, making him desperate to come._

_“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he husked out breathlessly, laying another trail of gentle bites along her opposite breast in a pleasured haze. “Come on, baby, want to feel you come.”_

_She whined in the most gorgeous way, her fingers finding her clit, rewarding him with a beautiful, full-body shudder that made her clench again delightfully._

_“God, you feel so good,” she panted, losing rhythm as she drew close to her peak, shaking and tightening in a way that was guaranteed to make Ben lose it any second._

_“Come on, honey, I've got you,” he moaned, so close he could taste it, dying to tip over that edge. “Give it to me, Rey, come on.”_

_She fell apart with a sharp cry, dragging him with her._

Ben groaned into the pillow, squeezing and working the head of his cock with rapid little strokes as he came all over his belly in hot spurts.

Swift on the heels of his release was the familiar feeling of shame and guilt, compounded tenfold by the fact that he had conversed barely half an hour ago with the woman he had just jerked off thinking about.

He pulled the pillow away from his face with a little gasp, breathing fresh air in a greedy pant as he fumbled for the tissue box on his bedside table.

He cleaned himself up and threw the tissue away with a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face then back into his hair.

“Go to sleep,” he tried to convince himself. “Go to sleep.”


	5. Chapter 5

_A watched pot never boils,_ he thought, staring at the kettle while every other atom in his body was attuned to Rey’s presence in his living room.

If he thought seeing her in his t-shirt and sweatpants was a gut-punch, it was nothing compared to the sight of her in his reading chair, legs bare and curled up on the seat with her, angled off to the side while a book rested on her thighs.

It had frozen him, the shocking domesticity of it hitting him hard, bruising somewhere soft and sentimental in his chest. Then she looked at him, her wide eyes and pink blush as her gaze swept over him like another hit, square to his guts.

“Oh,” he managed to force out lamely. “Uhh... hi.”

“Hi,” she echoed, her voice barely audible.

He had expected to have to tiptoe through the living room to get to the kitchen, had been prepared to make tea in the dark to avoid disturbing her, but finding her awake and reading in his chair had completely and utterly thrown him.

He regained his senses enough to wonder if it was because she wasn’t well, or was regretting agreeing to stay there.

“You alright?” he decided to ask, stepping a little bit further into the room and squinting in the light from the lamp.

She nodded, and seemed genuine when she reassured him, “Fine, yeah. I just... couldn’t sleep.”

Join the club.

“Me neither,” he sighed instead, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I was... I was going to make some tea, if you’re interested.”

She was, so that’s what he was doing; making tea and leaning against the counter, shifting his gaze from the kettle to the floor as he barely held on to his composure with a grip as white-knuckled as his hands on the counter behind him.

He could see her move in his peripheral vision, returning the book she had been reading to the shelf before joining him in the kitchen, leaning against the breakfast bar opposite him. It put her bare feet and ankles directly into his line of sight, and it took everything in him not to scan his eyes up her legs as he raised his gaze to her face with a thick swallow.

This was dangerous. This was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one, but he was doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and trying to fill the silence with bullshit small talk. Anything to defuse the tension that was mounting higher and higher in his chest like a pressure valve.

“I never thanked you for changing my final.”

That was a subject they had been avoiding, an elephant in the room that they were trying to ignore, and here she was just... _saying_ it.

“So... thank you. It means a lot to me, especially after the way I yelled at you. I’m sorry about that, I was... I was so pissed at you, obviously, so I went in completely guns blazing. Not my finest moment.”

She seemed ashamed, looking down and crossing her arms, creating a lump in Ben’s throat that he worked to swallow.

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, then huffed, looking at the floor. “You were right.”

He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his gaze down, willing the words to come out of his mouth. “So... the yelling was warranted.”

It was hard enough to admit he was wrong on a good day, but doing it then, when he had been such a monumental cock to her in the first place just made his shame grow exponentially.

“Look on the bright side—” Her tone told him she was going for lighthearted, trying to cut through the tension strung tight through the air, “—you never have to read another one of my ‘uninspired’ essays again, now that I’m done with my English courses.”

He understood why she said it, he understood how she would think it would lighten him a little, but instead it just made it worse. It was just a reminder that this was temporary, that this would probably be the last he saw of her, that he would no longer have a reason to see her every week.

Fuck, he missed her. He missed their mornings, he missed her laugh and her smile and her snarky wit. He missed having her look at him in the early morning light on the track like she wouldn’t want to be there with anyone else. He missed the way she’d watch him from her seat in the front row of class, like listening to him was a pleasure she got to experience rather than just a class period she had to slog through.

The shriek of the kettle was a welcome distraction, as was making their tea.

He never should have invited her in. He shouldn’t have even opened his door, if he had just minded his own business he wouldn’t be fighting the words that wanted to pour from his throat, gripping the edge of the counter for dear life.

_“Look on the bright side, you never have to read another one of my ‘uninspired’ essays again, now that I’m done with my English courses.”_

Did she think he didn’t enjoy having her in his class? That he was happy to be rid of her? She couldn’t think that. The very idea was too upsetting for him to bear.

“For the record,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying, soft and pathetically desperate, “you were the best part of my week. I looked forward to you wishing me a good day after every class, and I... I hoped every day that you would join me on the track or in the gym.”

She was silent, but he couldn’t stop talking. “And... I’m sorry, for how I handled things after _Frankenstein_. I was just... so humiliated at being lectured for my friendliness toward you. I would have given almost anything to avoid having to talk to you about that, and it damn near broke your ankle. And I’m sorry about that too.”

 _God, you’re such an asshole, Solo._ He thought bitterly, knuckles white on the counter in front of him, but she needed to know. It had been haunting him, it would always haunt him if she didn’t _know_.

“Then you... then you said all those things, about how you weren’t sorry for wanting to spend time with me.”

He needed to look at her, he needed to see the truth in her eyes when she answered him. “Did you mean that?”

“Yes,” she said it so surely, so immediately, and without even a moment of hesitation. “Every word.”

She was moving closer, and he was rooted to the spot. It was like time was suspended, unmoving in the little bubble of his kitchen.

“This is dangerous,” he whispered.

“Why?” She was watching him with those soft brown eyes, and Ben’s heart was in his throat.

“Christ, Rey, you know why. You’re a student.” He had to be the responsible one, he had to put a stop to this.

“I’m not your student anymore. I won’t have a reason to step into your classroom ever again.” She stepped forward again, closing the space between them, and he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth.

 _God, you’re such an asshole!_ he repeated to himself, then forced the words from his mouth too.

“I’m an asshole,” he reminded her.

“You’re not an asshole to me.”

“Yes I am,” he whispered. He was an asshole for ever letting it become this, for engaging with her over and over again, for acting like he was allowed to, like it was acceptable for them to be friends. He was an asshole for literally running away from her, for leaving her at the health center, for not setting things straight between them like a goddamn adult.

“You have been,” she acknowledged, “but if you were as awful as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have invited me in and let me stay the night.”

“Purely selfish.” She moved closer still. “I just didn’t want you to go.”

He didn’t want her to ever go again.

“Good.” She was so close he could almost count her eyelashes, her warmth encroaching on his space so temptingly. “I didn’t want to go either.”

“Rey...” his voice trailed off, at a loss of what to say. Then she touched him, gentle and soft in the small of his back as she said his name.

He had imaged what it would be like to hear his name from her lips. There was something so intimate about it, something so secret and taboo, after hearing “Professor Solo” for so long.

But it was the way she was looking at him that broke him; the way her lips parted, her pupils blown wide and her cheeks touched with pink. She was perfection, and he was powerless to refuse her.

There was always that split second before he kissed someone where he second-guessed himself; when he panicked that maybe he had read them wrong, that the last thing they wanted was a kiss from him.

He had never had anyone trample that fear as swiftly as Rey did. He had never had anyone push up into him with the ferocity that she did, meeting his kiss like it was the most perfect thing she could be experiencing in that moment.

He would stop, if she told him to. He would pull away, he would slow down, he would find the threads of his control again, but until then he couldn’t do anything but back her up against the breakfast bar and pull her up onto it.

He had wanted this for so long, he had dreamed it, ached for it, guilted and shamed himself for it, and none of it could have possibly prepared him for how it truly felt to touch her like this; to put his hands on her, his mouth. To reduce her to a whimpering mess on his fucking breakfast bar, of all things, tasting her until she shook apart.

“Is this what you thought about?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, pressed tight against her ass after manhandling her onto her front. “Getting bent over this counter and fucked, hm? Is that what you thought about when you were touching yourself tonight?”

“Yes,” she immediately gasped with a squirm, soothing his fear that he was being too rough with her, that she didn’t want him to touch her like this. “Yes, yes, please, do it, _please_.”

Fuck, his goddamn head was going to explode; his head or his heart, he wasn’t sure which, but he felt sure it was going to happen.

Having to separate from her to get a condom was gut-wrenching, and he was half convinced that he would come back to find her getting dressed and trying to flee, that she would tell him she had changed her mind, that she was horrified by what they were doing.

She wasn’t; she was squirming on his counter where he had left her, looking at him like she wanted to fucking eat him until he pressed behind her, sliding the condom down his length.

“Tell me no,” he whispered anyway, poised at her entrance and rubbing his thumb against her spine reassuringly. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Fuck me,” she growled instead, nudging back until the tip of him parted her folds, and he sank inside her in a slow, devastating push.

Fuck she was tight; she was so tight and hot and _dripping_ wet, and Ben considered again that his head or his heart may very well explode.

She was tight and hot and dripping wet and demanding for him to move; telling him that he felt good, that he wasn’t going to hurt her, that she wanted more of him. There was no universe in which he could ever refuse her.

There may have been a universe where he had enough control to stop running his mouth, though, but it certainly wasn’t this one.

“Greedy little thing, aren't you?” he breathed against the shell of her ear, so sinfully enamoured with the way she was moaning, with the way she was squeezing around his cock as he slapped his hips in hard.

She yelped, and for a brief second he worried he had hurt her, but the way she pushed back, arousal fucking _dripping_ down her thighs, tore a hard groan from his throat.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , your perfect little cunt.” It was fucking filthy, the slap of his hips against her ass echoing in the kitchen and the electric sparks of pleasure up his spine driving him harder, faster.

They’d been circling this for months. He’d tried to deny it, squash it down, cut it out of himself, but he knew the truth; he was too weak to deny her anything, in the end, and too weak to deny himself once that door was open and the invitation given. He’d been doomed from the start, it was only a matter of time.

And _Rey_ , Rey was perfect—hot and squeezing around his cock, moaning like he was the greatest thing she had ever felt. She _was_ the greatest thing he had ever felt; every past experience he’d ever had barely worth remembering in comparison to the woman under him now.

“Good girl,” he pressed breathlessly against the back of her neck. She needed to know, she needed to understand how amazing he found her, how amazing this felt. “You take it so good, sweetheart, you take it so goddamn good, you feel so goddamn good.”

He’d never felt anyone get so tight, never felt anyone gush the way she did, fuck, he’d say all kinds of filthy things if it made her hot like this.

“Oh god, god, please, touch me, Ben, please, I need to come, please—"

“Fuck!” he buried the cry between her shoulders blades, overwhelmed and wrecked and completely, undeniably at the end of his tether.

All it took was the uncoordinated grind of his palm to make her come, yanking him hard over the edge with her in the most intense orgasm of his fucking life.

He couldn’t believe he was really getting to have this. He had imagined what it would be like, he had imagined that it would be amazing, but his fantasies were nothing compared to reality. They were nothing compared to how eager she really was, how soft and beautiful, how perfect she felt around him, how perfectly amazing she sounded.

“God, fuck, Ben, I can’t—" It was only her breathless whine and jerk that brought him back to reality, made him aware that he was still grinding the heel of his palm against her clit, undoubtedly overstimulating her.

He relented, just cupping her gently instead, just to feel how hot and wet she was, to feel his fingertips brush against where they were joined, where she was still fluttering and squeezing around him like pure perfection.

He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to pull away, he didn’t want to pull out, he just wanted to float in this moment forever. He just wanted to keep this, keep her, he wanted to refuse to think about how colossally stupid this was, how foolish.

He couldn’t of course, despite his desire to suspend time, and it was inevitable that he would have to pull out, dispose of the condom and figure out where to go from here.

She whimpered when he pulled away, the sound of it like a hand around his heartstrings, pulling him back to kiss down her spine for a moment.

 _I know,_ he thought, _I don’t want to stop either._

He tried to give her space to collect herself, busying himself with throwing the condom away and washing his hands, but she didn’t move from the counter, looking for all the world like she had just melted right onto it.

It stoked his stupid male pride, he had to confess, to see her so worn out and satisfied.

He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to give this up, walk away from this intimacy, even if he couldn’t truly keep it. He wanted her in his bed, he wanted permission to feel her warmth beside him on the mattress, to listen to her breathe; hell, he wouldn’t even mind if she snored.

 _Fuck it._ Tonight. He’d let himself have tonight, he’d give himself that indulgence. He’d allow himself something to hold on to when this inevitably disappeared in the morning.

“Come to bed with me?” he whispered it against her hair, draped along her back and hoping she couldn’t feel how fast his heart was suddenly racing. Yet there was no hesitation in her little nod, and seemingly a sense of determination as she took a little breath, clearly trying to motivate herself to move.

He had no clue what came over him, what on earth possessed him to be so bold, but before he could think about it he was scooping her up.

She gave a little gasp, holding tight to his shoulders, followed by an amused huff as she tucked her face against his neck. “Show off.”

He chuckled in answer, carrying her through the apartment to his dark bedroom.

It was a struggle of willpower to not just immediately crawl into bed with her, but he had to be at least marginally responsible for the state of his home, which meant he really needed to go turn the lights off.

She seemed to understand, and he left her on the bed while he went to take care of things.

He had completely forgotten about the tea, and nearly laughed to see the mugs now, sitting completely undrank and mostly cold on the counter. It wouldn’t take very long to wash them, so he did, leaving them on the drying rack to be put away in the morning.

Then, despite their little misunderstanding in the hallway (and god, her sweet little smile when she reassured him, her fingers stroking along the inside of his arm before squeezing his hand, that made his insides do backflips), it was all... shockingly domestic.

She kissed him, hands stroking through his hair in a way that would have made his knees weak if he had been standing, then crawled into his lap.

It was surreal, gently bantering, touching, kissing; sweet and intimate and far more comfortable that he could have ever hoped for. It shocked him, how easy it was to talk and tease each other in the dark of his bedroom, enjoying her warmth in his lap and her hands all over his body.

She even had the nerve to tickle him, the brat, and it was far too thrilling to have an excuse to restrain her hands.

Hearing her laugh, trying to free her hands and wiggling a little in his lap was like a dream, and he nibbled along her collarbone with delight.

“No, I don't trust you now, you tickled me.”

“You were being smarmy, it served you right.”

He chortled, finally releasing her wrists, and was rewarded by her touch all over his shoulders and back.

“I keep telling you that I'm an asshole,” he reminded her, trailing his mouth from her collarbones to move across her shoulder, breathing warmly into the fabric of her shirt. _His_ shirt, technically, which still felt like a punch to the stomach when he allowed himself to dwell on it.

“Yes you do, but it strangely doesn't seem to affect how fond I am of you, so you might want to give up soon. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

She had said it before, that she was fond of him, that she enjoyed his presence, enjoyed the time she spent with him. And he was a grown man, it shouldn’t affect him so much to hear, shouldn’t make tightness squeeze around his throat, but it did.

“What did I say wrong?” she whispered, her hands in his hair again comfortingly, and he swallowed around the tightness in his throat before giving his head a little shake, pressing another kiss to her shoulder.

“Nothing,” he murmured quietly. “It’s just... nice. To hear you say that. I'm very fond of you too. Obviously, I guess.”

He was fumbling his words like a complete dope, but her knees got a little tighter on either side of his hips and her fingers scratched gently against his scalp in a way that almost made him melt, so he pressed another trail of kisses back along her shoulder to press his face against her neck.

“Let’s lie down,” she whispered.

Yes, lying down sounded really nice, on that he agreed; so he did, pulling her down on top of him.

She chortled, wiggling to the side of him as they worked to pull the covers up, taking a few moments of shuffling and situating to arrange them comfortably.

“I like this,” she murmured after a little while, half asleep and warm in the circle of his arms.

He hummed agreeably, half asleep himself. “Me too.”

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, when she proposed testing this out. It wasn’t that he hadn’t _ever_ been intimate after sex; of the few partners he’d had over the years, most of them had at least stayed for a little bit of pillowtalk before taking off. But that was different than settling in for the night with another person, planning to spend a few hours asleep with them nearby. He liked it, liked feeling her there, liked how warm she was and how relaxed it made them both. Time would tell whether they pulled apart during the night, seeking their own space on the bed, but for that moment he couldn’t be more comfortable.

“Goodnight, Rey,” he whispered against the top of her hair, her arms giving him a little squeeze in return.

“Goodnight, Ben.”


	6. Chapter 6

She was still in his bed, fast asleep, and he was having a crisis.

They had shifted away a little during the night, not quite so tightly entwined as they had been when they had first fallen asleep. She was still tucked comfortably under the weight of his arm, on her back with her face turned sweetly toward him, and one of her hands over his forearm where it was resting across her belly.

The light leaking through the blinds gave the room a soft glow, and he marveled for a moment that he had actually managed to sleep in enough for that phenomenon to even occur. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept long enough to miss the sunrise. Not by choice; there was a reason he started his day around 5am, and it had everything to do with his persistent insomnia and all-too-frequent nightmares.

That wasn’t the reason for the crisis, though it was an interesting anomaly. The reason for the crisis was the fact that he had never wanted anything more than to wake up to this every day for the rest of his life. It felt _right_ , it felt _important_ , and the idea of never waking up with Rey Johnson again made it feel like a lance had been shoved through his heart.

He needed to get out of bed. He needed to shower, he needed caffeine, and he needed to think.

It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to leave that bed, moving slowly and carefully to keep from waking her. She breathed deep when his arm slid out from under her hand, freezing him in place for a tense second, but she ultimately remained asleep.

He stealthily opened his various drawers to pick out clothes, then made his way quietly to the bathroom.

He tried to avoid looking at the extra toothbrush in the holder as he put his folded clothes on the closed toilet lid and turned the water on, then left his boxers in a crumpled little heap on the floor as he got in.

He refused to let himself think about it in the shower; he had made a personal rule many years ago that no important decisions were to be considered before coffee got involved. It was a rule that had served him well, and that morning was no exception.

He let his hair air dry after he got dressed, occasionally running his fingers through it as he made coffee, then drank his first cup.

By the time he was halfway through the second he was feeling more comfortable with his capability to think clearly, and sighed as he stared thoughtfully into the depths of his mug, sitting on one of the stools beside the breakfast bar.

He really shouldn’t let this continue. Not just because of Snoke’s warning, though of course that was a factor.

She was so young, to start. She had barely started college, and he knew that she didn’t have a solid family background. Being at university might be the first time she’d truly been safe to live her life the way she wanted, to figure out who she was. It felt so cliche to even think it, but it was nevertheless true; this was the time she should be experimenting, exploring what she wanted from life, the kind of partners she wanted, the direction she wanted to steer her future.

He was thirty; he had a profession, he had a life plan in motion. He hadn’t put much stock in ever finding a partner, but he knew that if he did, it would be with the goal of longevity. He was too damn old for flings, and she was too damn young to be bogged down with the trappings of a long-term relationship.

_“Then you... then you said all those things, about how you weren’t sorry for wanting to spend time with me. Did you mean that?”_

_“Yes. Every word.”_

He sighed again, her words circling back through his mind. Both what she had said in his office, as well as her continual reassurance that she meant it.

He didn’t know how to deal with that. Rejection he was used to; hell, he had been told to his face that he was too much of an asshole for anyone to ever want. He had said it to Rey himself, several times, in fact. Yet every single time he had been met with her insistence to the contrary.

_“I don’t think many people would agree with you ascribing ‘chivalry’ to me.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because I’ve been informed by many people over the years that I’m an asshole.”_

_“You’re not an asshole to me.”_

_..._

_“Yeah, well, I’m an asshole, remember? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”_

_“I think you do very well pretending to be an asshole, there’s a difference.”_

_..._

_“I keep telling you that I’m an asshole.”_

_“Yes you do, but it strangely doesn’t seem to affect how fond I am of you, so you might want to give up soon. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”_

That was something else he liked about her. She was so honest, so direct with him. It occasionally caught him off guard, her lack of filter, but it only made him like her more. He tried, when he could, to return the favor. It wasn’t always appropriate, the call for honesty spilling over into personal territory he knew he shouldn’t cross while they were still student and teacher, but if he couldn’t be forthright he would opt to omit rather than lie.

_“I’m not your student anymore. I won’t have a reason to step into your classroom ever again.”_

Then there was that. The nail on the coffin of his resolve, murmured into that deafening kind of silence you could only get in the middle of the night, with barely any space between them to remind him why they shouldn’t.

She wasn’t his student anymore. She was _a_ student, but the science department might as well be another planet for all the influence he had there. He wasn’t even sure if he could name a single professor from that department.

He rubbed his thumb against the rim of his coffee mug, thinking. It had been a long time since he’d looked up the exact policy the university had on student-teacher relationships. Dating a student under his tutelage was a gigantic no-no for obvious reasons, but he thought he vaguely remembered there being looser rules outside of that. He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, the idea of dating any of the students he would encounter as a teacher had seemed laughable, but now...

There was no harm in just looking it up. Just for argument’s sake.

 _Shit,_ he thought. His laptop was still in his bedroom, he had brought it to bed with him in an effort to get some more writing done without the distraction of Rey’s presence.

He just had to be quiet. Rey wouldn’t wake up, as long as he was quiet and careful.

He slowly stepped into his room, bare feet quiet on the carpet. She was still asleep, though she had shifted a little, more on her side now, facing the space he had previously occupied. A little bit of hair had fallen over her cheek, and he fought the temptation to cross the room to brush it back from her face.

She was beautiful, she looked like she belonged there, and he was gripped again by the bone-deep desire to hold onto this and never let go.

 _Just get your laptop,_ he told himself determinately, retrieving it from where he had tossed it onto the loveseat.

Back in the safety of his living room, he set his laptop back up at his desk, and powered it on.

He found, suddenly, that there was a small part of him that hoped he was wrong; that the university rules explicitly forbid any and all romantic relationships with students, no matter the circumstances.

It would make things clear cut. It would take the decision out of his hands, it would make his guilt over his interest in her justified, it would make it a nonnegotiable fact of life that he couldn’t have her. It would help him to quash the ridiculous feeling he had that this was supposed to be, that waking up with this girl was the only thing he wanted for the rest of his life.

 _That’s insane,_ he tried to tell himself, nervously navigating to school policy pdfs. _You’ve spent one night with her. You saw one movie with her, had one coffee, and that wasn’t even a proper date. Nerdy conversations after running three miles with her a few times a week are not enough for the basis of a relationship._

 _It could be the start of one, though,_ his traitorous mind unhelpfully brought forth that hopeful thought.

One step at a time.

It turned out that his memory was correct, and student/teacher relationships were not completely forbidden. They were not permitted between students and teachers with the same major, which he knew, but as long as Rey was majoring in a department different from his own, it simply had to be reported to HR.

That was it. Well, almost it. There was still the little matter of Snoke.

Though Ben had had a proper panic when Snoke had called him in to his office to admonish him about Rey, the calmer, rational part of his brain now reminded him that his head of department didn’t have the authority to fire Ben outright, even if Ben was still an untenured professor. Snoke sure as hell could make his life difficult, though, and could most definitely advocate for Ben’s removal to those above him.

Ben swallowed thickly, letting that thought sit in his mind. Then he glanced toward the hallway, and thought of the girl in his bed at the end of it.

If Snoke advocated for Ben’s removal, there was a chance that he would try to use what he perceived as Ben’s “indiscretion” during the previous semester against him; would claim that Ben and Rey were involved while Rey was still in his class.

On the other hand... he might not. He hadn’t taken “official” action against Ben, after all, and Ben had a strong suspicion that a large part of it was due to the fact that he technically had no proof. It would become Hux’s word against Ben’s, as it was clear that Hux was the original source of gossip about the whole thing. Hardly an airtight case.

Then there was... everything else. Beyond the logistics of their positions, there was the nagging, terrifying doubt. Doubt that Rey wanted the same thing he did, fear that even with how much he wanted it, it was bound to fall apart. When it came to relationships, he was predisposed for failure, after all. His childhood was proof of that.

He needed to talk to her. They needed to discuss this.

He topped off his coffee mug, then slowly made his way down the hallway.

***

His bed had always felt like a battleground. A constant struggle against his nightmares, against his restlessness, and most recently, against his frequent, unacceptable fantasies about one Rey Johnson.

But with said Rey Johnson spooned against his front, he was finding his bed a much more welcoming place to be.

 _And_ , assuming things progressed as well as he hoped they would, he was going to have her in his bed for the next three weeks, which was absolutely insane.

He still couldn’t believe he had asked her to stay with him for the duration of winter break. More incredulously, she had agreed.

She had not only agreed, but after another hour of cuddling and kissing that led to a second round of oral and orgasms, Ben was making them breakfast.

“I have a question.”

He finished sprinkling shredded cheese into the frying pan that contained Rey’s omelette, then looked over his shoulder. He had finally forgiven her comments about his gourmet coffee and allowed her to have some, which she was sipping contentedly where she was sitting at the breakfast bar, watching him cook.

“I may have an answer.”

“Your bedside drawer.”

Pink immediately bloomed across his face, and he hurriedly turned back to the stove in the hopes of hiding it.

There was a few moments of silence, and he distractedly rotated the sausage that was browning nicely in another pan.

“Well?” she prompted, the smile clear in her voice.

“Well, what? You haven't actually asked me anything.”

“Well, I just happened to notice there was a bullet vibe. It’s got me curious.”

“Oh?” His heart fluttered nervously, and he could feel his blush starting to spread to his ears.

“Do you use it for you, or is it on hand for... ‘guests’?”

 _“Guests?”_ he repeated, finally turning back to look at her with raised eyebrows.

Rey just sipped her coffee innocently, her own eyebrows raised.

“Christ, Rey, you're making it sound like I run a service.”

She chortled. “Professor Solo’s Sexy B&B... gotta admit it has a nice ring to it.”

The blush on his face intensified, and he let out a long sigh, turning back to the stove and carefully folding her omelette.

“You still haven't answered my question.”

“It’s—" he faltered, letting out another sigh.

It had been an optimistic purchase, during a period a few years ago when he had briefly tried being active on the dating scene. That had been an abysmal failure, of course, but he hadn't had the drive to return it.

Since then, he’d occasionally use it on himself, just for the novelty; running it over the head of his cock while he jerked off, or pressing it behind his balls.

“Both, I guess,” he finally admitted. “I bought it with the hope of using it on a partner, but that hasn't happened yet. So I use it on myself sometimes.”

She didn't say anything, and he refused to elaborate, so he busied himself with plugging in the toaster instead.

“I only have wheat or rye bread for toast.”

“Rye, please.”

“How dark do you want it?”

“Not terribly. Just lightly browned.”

He adjusted the toaster a little before putting in the slices and pushing it down.

“I've never used a vibrator before,” she said conversationally. It was casual enough of a statement to draw his gaze back to her, and he found her cheeks pink behind the coffee cup she was sipping from.

“Really?”

Her blush got a little deeper, but she put the mug down to answer him. “Yeah, it hasn't really been high on my list of priorities to spend money on. Plus I live in a dorm, so...”

She shrugged one shoulder, and he started preparing her plate. 

“Makes sense,” he mumbled. “Dorms are awkward that way.”

She gave a little laugh, then took another swallow of coffee. “Don’t I know it. And getting off in the shower gets tedious.”

He chortled, transferring a couple sausage links to her plate, then her omelette.

“Guess you don't have to worry about that, though. Fleshlights don’t require batteries.”

He gave her another look to find her grinning, a mix of amusement and heat clear in her gaze, and he went pink all over again. Worse than that, he found heat pooling in his abdomen, and his dick gave a hopeful twitch.

“Eat your omelette, Johnson,” he sighed, getting the toast from the toaster, then setting the plate in front of her with a stern look. She just gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“Yes sir.”

It wasn’t like he had never heard her say it before. Probably at least a dozen times, honestly. So it was stupid that it started to make his heart race and his blood to start traveling south.

He turned back to the stove to make food for himself, trying to quash down the little rush of want. It was ridiculous, he didn’t even know if he could actually get it up again yet, they’d had sex twice already that morning.

He had already put jam and butter on the breakfast bar, and he heard the crackly sound of Rey scraping some onto her toast. A bit of both, by the sound of it. Then the light clink and squeak of silverware against plate, and he couldn’t resist watching her take a bite of omelette.

She caught his eye as she put the fork in her mouth, then gave him a smile around the prongs before sliding it from between her lips.

“What?” she asked, bringing her hand up to hide her lips as she spoke around the mouthful, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“Just seeing if you like it.”

“It’s eggs and cheese, of course I like it.”

That made him laugh, pouring his own eggs into the pan. “That’s fair.”

“Seriously though,” she added after a moment, her voice soft, “this is wonderful, Ben. Thank you, you didn’t have to cook for me.”

“It’s no trouble, Rey, really. It’s nice to cook for someone else for once.”

He wasn't entirely sure the last time he cooked for anyone but himself, once he thought about it. His roommate, the last night they would be living together? Almost four years ago, then.

“Do you like to cook?” she asked curiously, and he nodded.

“I do. It’s relaxing for me.”

He folded the omelette, then put some wheat bread for himself in the toaster.

“Maybe you can teach me. All I ever learned was the very basics in home-ec, it’d be nice to know how to do more than cook pasta and brown ground beef.”

He chortled, plating his omelette along with the remaining sausage and toast before getting more coffee. “Everybody starts somewhere. But sure, I'll teach you. What do you like to eat?”

“Anything,” she shrugged as he sat down next to her. “I didn’t really have the luxury of being a picky eater when I was growing up.”

She said it offhandedly, stabbing one of the sausages with her fork and taking a bite, but the blush creeping over her cheeks seemed to indicate that it had been something she had shared with him with a degree of trepidation.

She had been forthcoming about her history with her parents, when it had come up almost two months ago after _Frankenstein_ ; almost a practiced speech, precise and to the point. This felt more personal, felt a little more “behind the curtain” of who she was than most people got, and that gift did not go unnoticed by him.

“Guess I’ll just have to experiment my more exotic recipes on you, then,” he said after a moment. “How do you feel about octopus?”

That got a laugh out of her, her smile and the amusement in her eyes so achingly lovely. “I’m open to it. I’ve never had it before.”

He had been mostly joking, as he had no clue how to make calamari, but her willingness was almost making him curious enough to try his hand at it. “We’ll add it to the list, then. In the meantime, how about chicken tonight?”

“I’m going to get spoiled, between you and Maz,” Rey grinned at him sweetly, taking another bite of omelette. “I’m not going to want to go back to the cafeteria food.”

“Then don’t,” he murmured with a one-shouldered shrug.

There was a little pause, in which Ben scooped a chunk of omelette onto his toast and shoved it in his mouth. He could feel her watching him as he chewed, then washed it down with a swig of coffee.

“Ben, that’s... I can’t possibly let you feed me all semester,” she said quietly, drawing his gaze back to her. “That’s not your responsibility, that’s what I have a meal plan for.”

He shrugged again, giving the sausage on his plate a little nudge with his fork. “I know. It would just be nice to have you here. Like I said, it’s nice to cook for someone other than me.”

He stopped toying with the sausage link, stabbing it with his fork instead and bringing it to his mouth to take a bite.

A couple moments later, he felt Rey’s hand on his thigh, leaning on it for balance as she tilted forward across the space between them to place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, nudging her nose against his cheek a little as her fingers gently squeezed his thigh. “I still can't possibly let you do that, but it's very sweet of you to offer.”

“Yeah, well, you haven't tasted my seasoned pork chops yet. Might make you rethink.”

She gave a little laugh, and he turned his face slightly to kiss her, both of their mouths a little greasy from the sausage.

“Maybe,” she conceded against his lips, then pressed another kiss.

She pulled back again after a moment, and he was very tempted to follow, to beg another kiss, but he refrained; sighing instead as her fingers squeezed his thigh once more before letting go to pick up her silverware again.

“Besides,” she added, “I can't leave Rose and Finn to their own devices, someone’s got to keep their public snogging in check. It’s a charity to the whole cafeteria, really.”

That cheeky grin of hers was contagious, tugging the corners of his mouth up in answer, and he shook his head with a little chuff.

“Shit, that reminds me.” She hopped up, going to where her phone was still plugged in on the counter and checking it.

“I've got to text them,” she mumbled, unplugging the phone and returning to her seat, “they’re expecting me to Skype with them this morning, open presents together. Obviously that's not happening, their presents are still locked in my apartment.”

She texted with one hand while finishing her food with the other, and Ben let his eyes track over her as he finished eating as well.

He had gotten dressed properly again, back in his jeans and sweater, but Rey still had no clean clothes, so had simply put his shirt back on. He wasn’t complaining, admittedly; cliche as it was, he loved seeing her in his shirt. It left little to the imagination, the hem hardly coming to mid-thigh, leaving most of her strong, perfect legs on display. The fact that he had the intimate knowledge of what those legs felt like on either side of his head still felt like a dream; he was half expecting to wake up alone in his bed at any moment.

She was biting her lip, looking thoughtful as she stared at her phone screen, then turned to look at him with uncertainty.

“Can I tell them that I’m with you?” she asked shyly.

He quirked an eyebrow up in surprise. The question had caught him off guard, and he floundered for a moment on how to answer. It depended on how much she was planning to divulge to them, he supposed; details of exactly how they had spent the night didn’t seem appropriate to share, even if they were her friends.

“Uh... what exactly do you plan on telling them?” he decided to simply ask, collecting their now empty dishes to wash them, busying himself with the task to mask how unsure he felt.

“Just what happened with my keys, and that you invited me to stay until I can hopefully get into my place. But, uh... well, they might ask questions. I haven’t exactly been secretive with them on how I feel about you.”

That gave him pause. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that information, knowing that she had spoken to her friends about him, had told them of her interest in him.

“Do you think they will disapprove?” he found himself asking as he squeezed dish soap onto a sponge, washing their plates and silverware before he would move on to the frying pans. It shouldn’t matter, really, their opinion of him, or of the new relationship between him and Rey, but it did. This was a delicate walk they were doing, and with one guaranteed adversary already in Snoke, they couldn't really afford any others.

“I don’t... know,” Rey sighed. “I think they’ll definitely be surprised, and maybe have a couple concerns, but...”

 _Concerns._ Right.

“I mean...” Rey continued, voice uncertain, “In all fairness, I had written you off as just a fantasy, myself. I couldn’t imagine you actually being interested in me, so... well, this turn of events is a bit surprising to me too.”

He paused, hands mid-scrub on a butterknife.

“I... truly?” He turned back toward her, genuinely surprised. He thought he had been painfully, awkwardly obvious, to an embarrassing degree. Admitting it the previous night had felt more about apology for his cold behavior after _Frankenstein_ than telling her something she didn’t already know.

She gave a little shrug, tracing her finger around the inside of the handle on her coffee mug, staring at it instead of him. “You seemed to like me well enough, as far as students went, but I never thought it could be more than that. I figured keeping me at a distance was about making sure I didn’t get the wrong idea as much as it was about keeping it professional.”

She was half right, in that the jeopardy to his professional career was what pushed him into keeping her at a distance when his morality clearly wasn’t enough, but obviously wrong about it signaling his disinterest.

“It was mostly about keeping it professional,” he eventually murmured, returning to washing the dishes, weighing his next words. “But I guess it was about self-preservation, too. Being drawn to you...”

He sighed, rinsing a handful of soapy silverware. “Well. I’ve already told you how I felt like a creep, wanting one of my students. I still kind of do, when I think about it. Like I’m taking advantage.”

“I’m a grown up, Ben,” she chortled, “and I’m not your student anymore.”

“I know,” he sighed again. “But it’s a hard feeling to shake. And this is still risky, Rey. There’s still a chance Snoke will take it to the university, tell them that we were together before you finished my class.”

“He has no proof of that.” Her voice wasn’t as confident as her statement. “And it’s also just not true."

“I know, but he still might try.”

There was quiet for a few moments, and Ben finished washing the dishes, balancing the pans in the drying rack before wiping his hands on a towel.

“Maybe we shouldn't do this.”

He had no idea such a simple sentence could freeze his whole body, make it feel like there was ice water in his veins and his stomach had dropped clear to the floor. It shocked him, how viceral his reaction was, how much it hurt. After everything they had said the night before, everything they had talked about that morning, it felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him, and he had a few brief moments to be ashamed of himself for how deeply it was affecting him.

“I can't cost you your job. I won't make you risk that for me.”

His gaze snapped to her, taking in the fact that she looked just as miserable as he did.

“You're not _making_ me do anything,” he insisted. If he wasn’t allowed to decide for her what was an acceptable level of risk, she sure as hell wasn’t. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty, I just wanted you to know, to be prepared in case HR calls you in after I disclose our relationship to the university.”

She still looked upset, her posture hunched and tense and her thumb rubbing anxiously against the handle of her mug, and it occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t just the risk to his job she was worried about. There was risk for her too, of course, both academically and socially, and there was a good chance she hadn’t really given it as serious consideration as she should have until now.

“We don’t have to do this.” The words pained him to say, but he forced them out anyway. “But your decision has to be because of how it will affect you, not me. I’ve accepted the risk, and that’s my choice to make, not yours.”

He watched her swallow, looking back down at the mug in her hands. She sighed after a moment, glancing back up. “Right. Not making choices for each other. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. And I’ll understand if you’ve decided the risks for you are too high, if you think it will endanger your friendships or your academics. But not because of anything on my end.”

She still looked unsure, making his heart sink. It was surreal, how fast they could go from kissing and fucking that morning to talking about ending everything before it even began.

“Call your friends,” he murmured. “If you’re comfortable telling them the truth, tell them the truth. I would call Maz too, see if she’s opening today or if she’s still upstate so you can see about your keys.”

He was going to be diplomatic about this. He had to be. And he had to get out of the apartment, he had to go somewhere, get some fresh air while she talked to her friends.

“I’m going to go for a walk, okay? Give you some time to get it all sorted.”

“Wa—wait, what?”

Her eyes widened, her back straightening as he moved out of the kitchen and walked past her, aiming to fetch his shoes from the bedroom.

“Wait! Ben?”

Her hand on his arm stopped him, making him turn back toward her. She looked concerned, nervous, and he gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

“Just for a bit. Just so you can talk to your friends without worrying about me lurking.”

He realized as he said it that he didn’t want to hear what her friends said about him, either. He already knew from their previous conversations that Rose didn’t like him, though he was unsure of Finn’s opinion.

 _Concerns_ , she had said. He already knew the concerns they would have, half of them were concerns he already had. He didn’t need to hear her friends trying to convince her she didn’t belong with him.

“Right,” she whispered, her hand slowly falling away from his arm, her eyes shifting to the floor.

Fuck, he knew that look. It was the same look she had the first time she had come to his office, after she had hurt her ankle, when he had told her how he had been warned to stay away from her. Quiet, resigned, sad.

He stepped close again, swallowing apprehensively as he tilted her face back up toward him with a gentle hand along her jaw. He couldn’t stand to see her like that, looking like he had just told he was leaving forever, so he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I get back,” he murmured. “No matter what you decide. Promise me. Please.”

She let out a shaky little breath, her hand coming up to wrap around his wrist for a moment before she nodded. “I promise. I’ll be here.”

“Good,” he murmured as he pressed another kiss to her lips before stepping away.

Her fingers slid slowly off his wrist, and she was biting her lip as he turned away to return to his bedroom for his shoes.

She had moved to the couch by the time he came back, looking at her phone and curled up with a blanket in her lap. He got that feeling again, the same one he had gotten the night before, the same one he had felt that morning. That gut-deep feeling that she belonged there; she belonged in his home, in his space.

He couldn’t help stopping to kiss her again, hands braced on the back of the sofa as he leaned down, and loving the way she responded with a soft little moan.

There was a part of him that desperately wanted to tell her how much he wanted her there, how much he hoped she didn’t change her mind about staying with him over break. How much he wanted to come back and pull her back into bed with him, see how many times he could make her come with that bullet vibe.

Instead he just stroked a hand over her hair, pressing another kiss to her lips before pulling away and determinately getting his coat out of the closet.

“See you in a bit,” he said encouragingly, and she gave another little nod before he opened the door and left.


	7. Chapter 7

If he had been a bit more forward thinking, he might have taken the time to change into workout clothes, turn it into an opportunity to go for a run. Being that he didn't, he resigned himself to walk, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Town was almost dead, which he expected; most people were still celebrating Christmas morning or else not bothering to go out since most everything was closed.

It was both a blessing and a curse, having all that quiet. He was never much good at dealing with people, but being left without distraction from his swirling thoughts wasn’t helping him either.

It was just a repeating loop of all his anxieties: whether this was a good idea, how hard Snoke might fight to get him removed, if Rey would change her mind, if he would find a way to fuck it all up somehow.

He sighed, his breath misting the air in front of him. This could turn into a mess so fast, for so many reasons.

But the thought of letting it go... he couldn't explain it, the visceral sensation of distress it caused him. He had never felt that way about anyone before; he almost didn't trust the feeling.

He passed one of the few open shops in town, the local Walgreens, and the window display caught his eye.

It was positively garish, the cheap decorations brightly colored, brightly lit, and altogether ridiculous. Still, he thought about Rey, about her disappointment in not having access to her little tree back in her apartment.

He bit his lip for a moment, thinking, before huffing out a little breath.

“Fuck it.”

***

About an hour after he had decided to take a walk, Ben dared to venture home again, a box under one arm and a couple of bags in the other.

He cautiously let himself in to find the sound of the TV playing some kind of Christmas movie, and Rey exactly where he had left her. She didn’t seem to have moved from the sofa during his absence, her legs still tucked under the blanket, and she gave him a little smile when he came in.

“What’s all that?” she asked, pointing at the box and bags he was carrying.

He suddenly felt exceptionally stupid for his idea. She had probably changed her mind, after all, and wouldn’t be staying with him over break. And he didn’t even celebrate Christmas, so he’d be stuck with all this stupid, cheap crap he’d have to donate to Goodwill or something—

“Ben?” she prompted, looking a little concerned at the red that he could feel spreading over his cheeks.

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled, looking away from her and putting the items on the breakfast bar. “I just thought— I figured you might like...”

He forced himself to take a deep breath in, then let it out, closing his eyes as he fumbled his way through an answer to her question. “Just... decorations. For you, since, you know... it’s Christmas and stuff, and since you can't get into your apartment to enjoy yours, I thought... I mean, they’re just cheap Walgreens stuff, not great, but they were open and I figured...”

He trailed off. So much for his English major. He couldn’t even string a proper sentence together.

“You bought Christmas decorations for me?” she asked softly.

“It’s stupid, I know.”

His face burned hotter, his fists clenching on the countertop. He had to actively fight the urge to destroy the stupid things, wipe away the proof of his moronic idea.

If she sensed his turmoil she didn’t comment on it, but there was a beat of silence before the rustle of the blanket shushed quietly behind him, and a few moments later she was pressed against his back, her arms tight around his chest.

“It’s not stupid,” her voice was soft, wavering slightly as her arms squeezed a little tighter. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, I don’t even know what to say.”

She sounded on the verge of tears, catching him off guard and draining away a little of his humiliation.

“It’s barely anything,” he found himself mumbling, but Rey shook her head against his back.

“It’s sweet. It’s so sweet, how on earth are you always saying you’re an asshole? Ben, this is...” She trailed off, giving another little shake of her head and a deep breath as she squeezed him again, then let go and stepped to his side, taking one of the bags into her hands. “I want to see. Come on, help me get everything out.”

He shrugged off his coat as she started emptying the bags, backtracking toward the door to hang it up in the closet. Then he heard Rey laugh, and he turned his head to see her looking at a roll of twine and bag of popcorn with furrowed eyebrows.

“What’s this for?”

“I thought that was a thing. Strings of popcorn as decorations on the tree?”

“Oh gosh, I think you’re right. I’ve only ever seen it in movies, do people actually do that?”

“No idea,” he confessed, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he made his way back to her. “I was kind of hoping you’d guide me with this one. I’ve never done Christmas, myself. Most of what I know about Christmas comes from movies and the occasional Christmas party I was forced to attend as a kid.”

“Forced?”

“Like I told you earlier, my mom was a lawyer; her firm had an annual party. Mostly boring adults getting drunk and sneaking off to the offices to have sex.” He emptied another bag as she chortled, spilling out the boxes of string lights he had picked up.

“Did you wear a little suit?” she asked, a grin clear in her voice as she emptied another bag.

“Bowtie and everything.”

She giggled sweetly, setting the box of cheap bauble ornaments upright on the counter. “That sounds absolutely precious. I’d love to see those photos.”

“Absolutely not. You already know too much, my air of enigma is going to be completely ruined by the end of the weekend at this rate.”

She laughed again, and he noticeably felt his shoulders loosen a little more. He had been so sure he had completely cocked up; that she’d think all of this was stupid or lame, but in the span of only a few minutes she had pulled him from a self-deprecating anger to making a joke and talking about his childhood. It was baffling, how she managed to do that.

The last bag contained a little, fake-snow-frosted wreath with battery-powered lights and a door hook, and he busied himself with hanging it on the door as Rey popped the lid off the box containing the miniature tree.

He decided to switch the wreath on once it was properly hung, and even he had to admit it looked kind of nice, even considering its cheapness. He turned back to find Rey setting the tree on the coffee table so she could sit on the sofa to decorate it, the box of ornaments under one arm and a box of string lights under the other.

It gave him pause, watching her set everything up, the television still playing some Christmas movie he didn’t recognize in the background. She looked so... _happy_ , a little smile across her lips and her eyes practically alight, and his lingering anxiety about buying his meager offering of Christmas decorations finally dissipated. It made Rey happy. He had made her happy, and that made him happy. It had been a long time since he had wanted to please someone the way he found himself wanting to please Rey.

He moved across the room, sitting on the sofa beside her and picking up the box of lights to open and start unwinding.

“What are we watching?” he asked after a moment, his eyes drawn to the inexplicable dance number going onscreen as Rey opened the ornaments box and sat beside him.

 _“White Christmas,”_ she answered, beginning to lay the baubles out on the table. “It’s one of Rose’s favorites. She introduced me to it last year, and now I’m obsessed. It’s just so nice and the music is so freaking catchy.”

He glanced up at the screen again, watching for a few moments more, and while he hadn’t the faintest clue what was going on, he had to admit she was right; the music _was_ catchy.

“Speaking of Rose...” she eventually ventured.

Ben swallowed, looking down at the lights in his hands and suddenly feeling like a boulder was about to fall on his head.

“Well... you know I talked to her and Finn. And... I decided not to tell them. I mean, I told them I was here, it was kind of unavoidable since they’d know it wasn’t my apartment, but I just told them everything you’ve done to help me, and that you were kind enough to let me stay the night until I could get my keys sorted. Not... everything else.”

He remained quiet, just giving a little nod in acknowledgement. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for Rey to keep their relationship a secret for the time being; it was all too new, he just wanted to keep it all for himself for a little while longer.

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Rey added after a moment. He glanced to the side at her, her eyes on the little row of baubles she was laying out on the coffee table. “They told me to be careful, to not let my infatuation get me in trouble.”

She threw a little smile to him over her shoulder. “I think they were mostly teasing, but I’m pretty sure they were a bit serious too. Apparently they think I’m some kind of wild seductress.”

He huffed out a little laugh, unraveling more of the string lights.

“They’re not wrong,” he murmured cheekily, making Rey laugh.

“Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure you kissed me first last night. Who’s really the one doing the seducing?”

“Still you. You were the one not wearing underwear, if I recall.”

“Which you didn’t know about until after you kissed me, so I still think you’re the seductress in this scenario.”

That made him chortle, and Rey smiled wider, taking the end of the string lights now and leaning forward to start winding it around the tree’s branches and trunk. He dutifully finished untangling them, then sat back to watch her decorate, her fingers artfully navigating the lights along each branch.

“Still,” he insisted with a smirk, “when I left the living room, you were wearing sweatpants. When I came back out, you weren’t, _and_ you were reading in my chair. How was I supposed to resist that?”

Rey shook her head with a chuckle, bending an uncooperative branch into the shape she wanted. “It was really the reading thing that got to you, wasn’t it? You’re such a fucking nerd. Should I do the hot librarian thing for you sometime?”

He wished he could claim that the thought of Rey wearing the stereotypical “hot” librarian get-up didn’t get to him, but it absolutely did. Seeing her in sexy glasses, a pencil skirt, tight blouse, heels...

He knew he was taking a little too long to answer, his tongue seemingly a useless slab in his mouth, so when Rey looked back at him, an amused, almost wicked smile curling at the corners of her lips, it was inevitable that his face would burst into a furious blush.

“Oh my god, you’d really be into that, wouldn’t you?” she laughed, clearly far too delighted at this unexpected discovery, and Ben moaned as he covered his face with his hands.

“Just... stop looking at me. Decorate the tree.”

She practically cackled with glee, and a moment later he felt her swing her leg over his lap, tugging his hands away from his face.

“Oh come on,” she cooed, still looking far too pleased as she gave his wrists a little squeeze, “don’t be embarrassed. That’s really pretty vanilla, as far as fantasies go. I wouldn’t mind it, if you really wanted to do it sometime. Lord knows you’ve got enough books, we wouldn’t even have to pretend very hard that we were in a library.”

“I’m an English teacher, of course I have a lot of books.” He felt compelled to defend himself, but Rey just smiled, scooting a little closer.

“I know. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying. It’s very convenient for a sexy librarian fantasy.”

She let go of his wrists, opting instead to wrap her arms around his neck, and despite himself, Ben’s blush seemed to intensify. It was so ridiculous, how her flirty proximity was affecting him; he had seen her come, he had put his mouth between her thighs, he had spent the night with her tucked cozily against his chest. There was no reason that he should be so flustered, yet there he was, his heart racing and his cheeks red.

“You should finish decorating the tree,” he eventually murmured lamely, internally cringing almost immediately after the words left his mouth. He had no clue why he was being stupid enough to try to convince her to get off his lap, but backtracking now would undoubtedly be even more awkward.

Rey looked a little disappointed, making him feel like even more of a moron, but she still pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before sliding off his lap and picking up the lights again.

When she was finished, she wordlessly handed him several of the baubles, and together they started hanging them from various branches.

Considering it was a miniature tree with cheap plastic baubles and a single string of white lights, it actually looked like it was going to turn out okay.

Rey sat back when the last bauble was hung, looking pleased.

“Where should we put it?” she asked, looking around contemplatively, and Ben considered the room with her for a moment.

There was a low bookshelf underneath the television that they could place it on, if they wedged it all the way to the side to keep it from obstructing the screen. It would be nice there, he thought; they’d be able to see it from the sofa and he could easily plug it into the power strip that already ran his television and blu-ray player.

He picked the tree up by the base, placing it on the bookshelf and looking at her questioningly for approval.

“Perfect.” She smiled at him, prompting him to plug the lights in.

They were surprisingly bright and looked surprisingly good, Ben taking a couple steps back to admire their handiwork.

“Perfect,” Rey sighed again, drawing his gaze from the tree to her. She seemed so happy, looking at their simple decoration, and Ben found himself increasingly glad that he had bought the silly little thing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, turning her head to look at him, making his throat feel tight at the earnestness in her eyes and voice. “I mean it, this is so nice.”

He simply nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to say.

A few moments passed, both of them just looking at the tree, _White Christmas_ still playing in the background, before Rey suddenly gave a little laugh. “The popcorn! We didn’t add popcorn strings.”

He had completely forgotten, despite them talking about it not even a half hour ago, making him chuff. He ran a hand through his hair, considering the tree thoughtfully. “I’m going to be honest with you... I’d rather just eat it than use it as decoration.”

She laughed again, tilting her head in acknowledgement. “Honestly... me too. Should we make it now, or save it for later? We could put on another movie, or start this one over, if you want to see it.”

He couldn’t help but smirk a little, his hand in his pocket rubbing against his thigh as he considered whether he should say what had come to his mind.

“What?” she questioned him with amused suspicion, and he huffed out a soft laugh.

“Are you inviting me to ‘Netflix and chill’? Kids still call it that these days, don't they?” He couldn't keep the smirk off his face, his efforts to be deadpan completely ruined by her burst of laughter, Rey grabbing one of the pillows on the couch and burying her face in it.

“Oh my god, you’re such an old man,” she groaned, lowering the pillow with another laugh, her face split with a wide grin. “‘Kids still call it that these days?’ Seriously, how old are you? Not old enough to call twenty-somethings ‘kids,’ I’m pretty sure.”

“I thought the phrase was more prominent among teenagers? I certainly _do_ have the right to call them kids.”

 _“Either way,”_ she insisted with a shake of her head and a chuckle, “no, we are not ‘Netflix and chill’-ing, especially with the pure wholesomeness that is _White Christmas_ as background. I think we might actually be struck down with lightning if we did that. If you want to fuck me, you’re going to have to wait until the end credits, thank you very much.”

Her coy little smile tugged on his insides, and if he was being honest, he didn't want to wait that long. Not when she had teased him about the bullet vibe in his drawer over breakfast, and just a short while ago promised him a sexy librarian fantasy.

“How much longer is the movie?” he asked, digging his hands a little deeper into his pockets, trying not to be overwhelmingly obvious in his hope that she'd skip the movie in favor of fooling around with him.

“Another hour, at least.” She was feigning an air of innocence, he could tell, looking at him with those soft brown eyes and a subtle smile. Then she patted the cushion next to her, gathering up the blanket she had left draped over the arm of the sofa and spreading it over her legs. “Come on, sit. You'll like it.”

He sat with a resigned sigh, letting her throw part of the blanket over his lap too as she cuddled up to him, tucking herself under his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

To be fair, it was really rather nice. Rey was warm, and he liked being able to rest his cheek on the top of her head as she explained the plot to him so he could understand what was happening. It was a sweet movie, in the end, he had to admit.

Then she reached for the remote to turn it off as soon as the credits rolled, and a moment later she was astride his lap.

This time, instead of being an awkward idiot about it, he tried to act like he had at least a smidgeon of an idea of what to do when a beautiful girl was straddling him, her arms around his neck and her knees on either side of his hips. Kiss her, for example.

Rey hummed happily, one of her hands moving up the back of his neck and into his hair, her fingertips scratching gently against his scalp in a way that made shivers slide down his spine. It was stupid, how good such a simple touch felt to him, how easily it made heat pool in his abdomen.

It wasn’t until he put his hands on her hips, trying to pull her closer, that he realized that she had pulled the blanket with her in her hurry to get in his lap, catching the material between them. It was a hindrance, and Ben grumbled as he grabbed a handful of it, tugging on it to free it with several sharp jerks. Rey wiggled, shifting her weight a bit to help him detangle it while simultaneously ducking her head to kiss his neck very distractingly.

There, that was better, the blanket shoved unceremoniously to the floor, leaving nothing between them but his jeans and underwear, Rey still in just his t-shirt.

He loved that. He unabashedly, completely loved Rey in his clothes, and he loved that she hadn’t put her underwear back on even more, making it easy to palm her fabulous ass with a wanton little moan. His brain immediately conjured up the memory of fucking her from behind the night before, the sound of his hips hitting her ass with lewd smacks. It made him blush to think about; how rough it had been, how desperate and carnal, fucking hedonistically on his kitchen counter. The same kitchen counter they had eaten breakfast at that morning, surreal as that felt.

Rey’s lack of underwear also made it easy for him to shift her to the side, laying her down on the sofa cushions and burying his face in her cunt.

Her sharp gasp made him smirk in satisfaction, planting his elbows more firmly on the cushions and shifting his hips further down toward the other end of the sofa to lessen the hunch in his back, making it a more comfortable position for him. He planned to be there for a while, it wouldn’t do to get a cramp.

“Your fucking _mouth_ ,” Rey groaned, fine little tremors starting in her thighs already, quivering on either side of his head. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about your mouth.”

He wanted to know, he wanted her to tell him all the ways she had imagined his mouth, if it was half as sinful as the ways he had imagined hers. He was half tempted to ask, but with the way she was squirming and panting already at the rapid swirl of his tongue over her clit he didn’t dare lift his head to speak. He didn’t need to, it turned out, Rey taking the initiative all on her own.

“Knew you’d be good at this,” she moaned a moment later, her fingers tight in his hair, each clench of her fingers sending sparks down his spine. “Knew it from the moment I looked at those pretty lips. And you talk all day!” Here she laughed, cut off with a gasp as he rubbed his tongue against her harder, her next sentence breathed out on a moan, “You talk all day, knew your tongue would know how to work.”

He was equal parts amused and flattered that she had given his oral skills such consideration, and he smiled against her inner lips as he drew his mouth down, tongue dipping between her folds to press inside her entrance.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, the first time he had gone down on a woman. He hadn’t expected the scent to be so sharp, or the taste so earthy, a salty tang caught on the tip of his tongue. All he knew was that he liked it, and he liked how it made him feel, being able to give his partner pleasure; to feel it reflected in her hands on his shoulders or hair, her gasps and moans.

With Rey it was even better, knowing that she had thought about this, knowing that she had touched herself thinking about it, her fingers between her legs as she imagined his lips.

He dragged his tongue back up slowly, pressed flat and wide against her hot flesh, her wetness smearing with a slick sound. He dared to give her the gentlest of nips with his teeth, darkly amused when she gasped and jolted with a squeak, her thighs jerking and her hands pushing down on his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare,” she panted, making him snicker, “just because you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean I won’t beat you up, Solo.”

He completely believed her, angling his head to the side, laying a trail of messy kisses along her thigh as he chuckled. “I was just playing, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.”

 _Not unless you ask me to._ He kept that thought to himself for the time being.

Her fingers brushed through his hair, and she hooked the leg he wasn’t kissing over his shoulder, her calf giving a little squeeze across his back, a improvised sort of hug.

He dipped his head back down in answer, returning his lips to her center with light kisses and licks, penitence for his earlier nip. She sighed, wriggling a little, impatient for him to get back to the more focused attention to her clit he had started with.

He considered, his nose pressed against her mons and his lips just brushing over her clit, her scent thick in the humid air between her legs. He wanted to make her come with the bullet vibe; the idea of doing it had been percolating in the back of his head since she had brought it up over breakfast, but he also really wanted to get her off with his tongue. He could do both, he acknowledged, maybe getting up to fetch it—and grab a condom too, while he was at it—after he got her off like this.

She gave another impatient squirm, her calf tensing across his back, making up his mind for him. He pressed his lips to her more firmly, rubbing her clit between them before starting a fast, firm rhythm of his tongue.

The moan she gave him was practically melodic, her hands restlessly petting over his head and shoulders as her thighs tensed, telling him exactly how much she was appreciating the attention of his mouth.

Sometimes it felt almost trance-like, doing this. His mind going peacefully empty of any thoughts beyond the movement of his mouth and the sounds of her breath and pleasure, the tension in her body showing him when he was doing it precisely right. He liked that headspace, forgetting about his own desire in favor of his partner’s.

“God— fuck—” he heard Rey curse, her legs quivering on either side of his head, her fingers tight in his hair. A second later she gave a breathy whine, hitching up against his mouth, and he knew without question that she was coming, the shaking tension shuddering through her making his heart race.

He didn’t let up, still rapidly flicking his tongue, pushing her through the pleasure until she went limp with another whine and a curse. He moaned in answer, finally gentling the intensity of his tongue, then slipping it greedily downward to push inside her, tasting how wet she was, his face messy with her fluids.

With a wet, broad lick he reached up to coax her leg off his shoulder, angling it to the side so he could sit up, admiring the flush on her face and her relaxed, blissed-out look. His cock gave a furious throb in his jeans, reminding him of how extremely hard he was, and he ground the heel of his palm against it with a stifled groan.

His sound must have caught her attention, her eyes flickering open to look at him dazedly, a tiny smile caught on the corners of her lips.

“Come down here,” she whispered, reaching for him, and it took a significant amount of willpower not to obey. Ben shook his head instead, forcing himself up from the sofa unsteadily.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, trailing his fingers over her knee encouragingly.

He shuffled away before she could protest, dodging around the coffee table and hurrying to his room to fetch what they needed. He realized how hot he was, sweating under his jumper, and he peeled it off with a huff, leaving it on his unmade bed before stuffing a condom in his pocket and picking up the bullet vibe with his other hand.

He tested it, making sure the battery still had a charge, and breathed out a little sigh of relief when it buzzed to life in his hand. It was a simple toy; just a self-contained little vibrator with a handful of speeds to click through via its single button, but he hoped it would get the job done. He shoved it in his pocket with the condom.

When he returned to the living room, he found that Rey had also removed her shirt, leaving her bare on the sofa, her hands playing idly with her breasts as she waited for him to come back. It was a sight that made his cock twitch again, painfully hard against the zipper of his jeans and desperate for attention.

He ignored it, moving instead to sit back down between her legs, leaning over her to press a trail of kisses up her belly.

Her hands moved from her breasts to his hair warmly, letting him trail his mouth further up to her chest, and when he put his teeth to her this time he was still met with a gasp, but her hands didn’t push him away. He kept it gentle anyway, just soft nibbles and light bites, not even enough to bruise.

“Come kiss me,” she breathed, her hands gently pulling on him. “Ben, please.”

He could never refuse such a sweet request, immediately angling his head up to meet her lips with his own, a content sigh easing out of him.

“Can you come again?” he asked in a soft murmur against her mouth, petting his hands down her sides to her hips, giving them a little squeeze.

She moaned in answer, wrapping her arms around him tightly before murmuring back, “God, with you? Yes. Fuck yes.”

She was perfection, and Ben had no clue how he had come to be this astronomically lucky.

Instead of waxing poetic about it, however, he trailed his mouth down her neck before sitting back and getting his fingers into his pocket, pulling out the bullet vibe. She bit her lip at the sight of it, visibly interested, and he found his heart beating very fast as he pressed the button on the bottom to turn it on.

The buzz was soft on its lowest setting, a pleasant little tickle against his fingers, and he experimentally touched it to her labia majora, just to see what she would think of it.

“Oh!” Rey breathed, hiking her knee up a little higher against the back of the sofa, her other leg angled off the edge of the cushions. “That's... that's wild.”

“Is that good or bad?” he asked, gently stroking it up one side, then the other, watching her bite her lip as she considered, her hand reaching for his forearm.

“Good,” she finally answered softly, fingers squeezing his forearm. “It's good.”

Experimentally, he trailed it inward, tracing it along her inner lips, watching her squirm a little, her eyes watching him, waiting. He kept the touch slow, soft, testing the waters until he was bold enough to dip the tip of it inside her, his cock throbbing at the way she shuddered and groaned.

“Good?” he asked again, and she nodded, squirming and canting her hips into it. He’d get a toy better apt at penetration, he immediately decided. Maybe something designed to really hit her g-spot, see if Rey was capable of squirting. He felt his face flush at the very idea, shocked that his mind had dived so readily into such a lewd thought.

Then Rey sat up with a soft moan, hooking her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in, kissing him with a determination that would have made his knees weak if he had been standing. Instead it made him sway forward against her, following her back down onto the cushions with her tongue in his mouth.

“More,” she whispered against his lips, the word wedged between one kiss and the next, her fingers sliding down to close around his hand, giving it a squeeze.

Slowly he trailed the vibe upwards until he found her clit, her gasp and the grip of her hand guiding him to get it just right.

“Jesus Christ,” she squeaked, squirming under him delightfully, all concentration for kissing him completely gone. He didn't mind, not when he could feel the tension in her belly and thighs, the slow, soft rub of the vibe clearly making her feel very, very good.

“I'm turning it up,” he whispered, the words pressed against the underside of her jaw, the beginning of a long trail of kisses and licks down her neck.

A push of the button and the intensity increased, making the buzzing a little louder, but it was eclipsed by Rey's wanton moan, the satisfaction of that sound making his chest feel like it was expanding.

“God, stop enjoying this so much, I can feel you smirking.” Her huff abruptly cut off when he jiggled the vibe, and he knew he was being a bit of a dick, but he just couldn't stop. She was reacting so prettily, squirming and hitching into the vibrations, her breath quick, one arm tight around his shoulders as the other squeezed around his hand.

“Can you really blame me?” he murmured against her pulse, feeling it flutter under his lips. “You're so gorgeous like this, Rey. And I get to see it.”

She made a little sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder as she shook her head. “Fuck, you can’t just say shit like that, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

It almost made him laugh, considering her earlier confession about his mouth, and specifically how she had been daydreaming about it. It was also a relief, that she wasn’t annoyed by the shit that fell out of his mouth when he got turned on, and on the contrary, her statement seemed to point to her enjoyment of it.

“I want you to lose your mind,” he murmured softly, leaning back from her to change his position; his free hand bracing on the cushion beside Rey’s hip as he shifted to kneel between her legs instead of sitting. “That’s the point, Rey.”

To prove it, he pushed the button on the vibrator again to bring it up another notch, and Rey all but thrashed as he held it firm to her clit. It left Ben panting, pulling back enough to watch her squirm and tremble, her eyes shut tight and lips parted.

She was so wet; he could feel it against the backs of his fingers, spreading messily around as he jiggled and rubbed the toy against her. It was stupid, he realized, to not be utilizing his whole hand; to not to be using his bottom three fingers to press inside her her while his pointer and thumb held on to the vibe.

“Ng—!” she made a choked sound at the first press of his fingers inside her, just his ring and pinkie finger at first, testing the slick, tight heat with an experimental rock that worked his fingers and the vibe in unison.

“Okay?” he asked belatedly, drawing a breathless, borderline frantic laugh from her throat.

“Shut up,” she whined with a sharp gasp, her muscles clenching around him as he gave her a sharp thrust in reply. “More.”

He gave her more, adding his middle finger to the tight squeeze of her cunt, licking his lips over and over as he watched his digits sink inside.

She grunted in frustration when the rock of his hand made her heel suddenly slipped off the edge of the sofa, her foot thumping awkwardly against the floor, but he didn’t even pause; still rubbing tight little circles over her clit with the vibe as sank his fingers in even deeper.

“Shit,” she hissed, trying and failing to get her foot back up on the edge of the sofa, her frustration clear when she couldn’t quite get it. It was distracting her, it was edging her away from that peak he was trying to push her toward, so he huffed, grabbing her ankle with his free hand and planting the arch of her foot against his hip instead.

That was better, actually, it let her angle her leg out wider, her toes digging into the denim of his jeans, flexing as he put his mouth to her skin again; first the hot flesh of her neck, then down to her chest, Rey’s moans at each suck and gentle bite making him throb.

“Good girl,” he husked dizzily against her, bringing his hand from her ankle to her chest, twisting one nipple lightly between his fingers as the other received the tug of his teeth. “Come on sweetheart, good girl.”

Her whine was positively feral, blunt fingernails digging dully into his shoulder, and that was it; Rey cried out, tensing again and physically shaking her way through another orgasm that seemed to leave her completely overwhelmed.

“God— fuck— _fuck!_ ” She pushed his hand away roughly, whole body curling up with sharp spasms as more curses choked out of her throat.

He was almost lightheaded with how hard he was, how furiously he was twitching against his zipper, how hot and almost tingly his whole body felt; on edge with desperation so sharp he was in pain.

With trembling fingers he got his jeans open, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear too as he shoved it all down, his cock springing up almost comically; flushed a deep red and weeping, aching with the relief of being free from restraint.

He didn’t dare touch himself, despite the way his body ached for it—the dumb, primitive part of his brain wanting the instant gratification of immediate release, demanding him to coat her belly with his come like an animalistic claim. He ignored it, fumbling the condom out from his pocket with shaky fingers and bringing it to his mouth to rip open with his teeth.

By the time he managed to roll it down his dick he noticed Rey watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, face and chest pink, licking her lips like she still wanted to eat him.

It was all the invitation he needed, trusting her to stop him if he was doing anything she didn’t want, but him taking the backs of her knees into his hands and lining himself up sure as fuck didn’t seem unwanted; not with the way she moaned, reaching between them to guide him inside her.

It was greedy, there was no doubt about that; greedy and uneven, so on edge from the last hour, captivated and turned on from making her come, watching her come, that he lacked all sense of finesse. This was for him, no coordination left to try to make her come for a third time, if he even could, if Rey would even want him to try.

She didn’t seem to care about his lack of rhythm, pulling him down over her, burying one of her hands into his hair while the other dug her fingers bluntly into his ass; an unexpected pleasure that made him groan.

“Want you to come.” Her words were mumbled around a mouthful of his neck, her hot breath and wet tongue sending jolts of pleasure through his pelvis. She suddenly seemed to pause, her fingers flexing a little in his hair and on his ass, then after a sharp little breath: “Come on, Professor. Want you to come in me, please, sir.”

The sudden rip of his orgasm down his spine viscerally shocked him, a strangled sound erupting from his throat as he shot forcefully into the safety of the condom, the latex barely a deterrent from his pleasure considering the incredible, squeezing heat of her pussy all around him, her hands pulling him in, her mouth wet and eager against his throat. It was just white noise, shivering and panting, his forehead grinding against the bit of cushion beside her head until every last pulse of his climax worked its way out of him.

Ben had no clue how long it took him to get his wits about him, all he knew was that by the time his brain had resolidified inside his skull, all he could do was pant, “Did you...? Did you just...?”

Under him, Rey gave a little moan, keeping her face buried against the side of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “that was too much. I just— when I called you ‘sir’ earlier you seemed to— I should have fucking asked first, god, I’m such an asshole—”

“Shh,” he husked out, nudging the side of his head against the side of hers, barely able to get his thoughts into any semblance of coherence. “Shush.”

She shushed, giving him a moment to get his orgasm-foggy brain to string more than two words together.

“I really, _really_ don’t mind,” he eventually murmured, feeling the back of his neck and ears get hot at the confession. “As in... I... I may have thought about it before. A bit.”

She was quiet for a moment, then a little laugh, soft and bright beside his ear.

“Guess we kind of lied,” she chortled breathily, “when we said this wasn’t some kinky, hot-for-teacher thing. I mean, that’s not _all_ it is, obviously, but... yeah. It’s certainly played into my fantasies a bit.”

He laughed as he finally pulled back, almost forgetting that he was holding her knees up until he let them go, moving to brace his forearms against the sofa on either side of her. She was flushed, looking at him with that sweet little smile, eyes half closed; she looked content, relaxed in the way only good sex could give you, and it made him stupidly, egotistically proud to have put that look there.

“We’re ridiculous,” he sighed, earning him another little laugh from her, her hand stroking fondly over his hair.

“Little bit,” she agreed, then chortled again, looking around. “Where’d the vibe go? I can hear it, but I have no clue where it’s gone.”

He could hear it too, dull buzzing coming somewhere from inside the sofa, the vibe most likely wedged under one of the cushions under them. A moment of fumbling and he finally managed to get it, clicking through the last two intensities to rotate it back to “off.”

“That thing went _higher?_ ” Rey asked incredulously, taking it from his fingers to look at it herself, making him smirk.

“Five in total,” he informed her, “though clearly we didn’t need to go that high.”

“I don’t know if I would have _survived_ that high.” She clicked it on for herself, thoughtfully pausing at each level of intensity for a moment before circling back to “off.”

“That was...” She blew out a little breath, tossing it onto the coffee table and out of the way. “Something else.”

“Intense?” he asked, Rey nodding in answer and biting her lip.

“Definitely. I liked it, though.”

He could tell, and he wished he could give the little toy to her for the upcoming semester; somehow, however, he didn’t think her roommate would much appreciate that.

“We’ll use it again, then,” he affirmed instead, ducking his head down to press a kiss to her lips, happy when she hummed contently against his mouth.

“Spoiling me,” he barely heard her sigh, but he didn’t bother to dispute it. If giving her food and making her come was considered “spoiling her,” so be it; he had absolutely no plans of stopping.


	8. Chapter 8

The day after Christmas, Maz texted Rey that her keys were, thankfully, at the restaurant. She had somehow left them in the kitchen, but Maz had moved them to her office for safekeeping until Rey could pick them up during her shift that night.

As sexy as it was to have Rey in just his shirt, it sadly would not do for the hours she would spend waitressing, so he washed her clothes for her. She attempted to protest, saying that he didn't need to do that extra work just for her, which he sensed would be a running theme.

“I need to do some laundry for myself anyway,” he promised her, “so it's really not anything extra.”

It was a little bit of a lie, in that he typically did his laundry on Saturdays while Christmas had fallen mid-week, but he had a couple days worth of laundry he could throw in with hers to make her feel less guilty about his help.

“I _do_ know how to do laundry, by the way,” she informed him as he put her clothes in the laundry basket with his and picked it up, ready to take it all down to the laundry room in the basement of the building. “I'm not one of those college kids who just Febrezes their clothes every week or something.”

“I didn’t think you were,” he assured her, shifting the basket to one hand and supporting it against his hip. “I just figured you wouldn't necessarily be comfortable sitting in the freezing laundry room half naked.”

“I could put the sweatpants back on, you know.”

“Not a chance,” he smirked at her, inclining his head down to press a firm kiss to her mouth, “I don’t want you in one stitch of clothing more than you have to be until you have to leave this evening.”

“Pervert,” she chortled against his lips, her hand creeping up the side of his neck.

“Absolute slander, young lady, how dare you.”

That made Rey giggle, shuffling a little closer, her other hand sliding along his waist temptingly. “What are you going to do about it, sir?”

 _Fuck,_ no no no no no, she was not allowed to say such flirty things, they didn't have the time.

Ben groaned, scrunching his eyes closed in frustration even as he let her kiss him again, wishing so fervently that she didn't have to go anywhere tonight.

“I... am going to do laundry. I'm going. Right now.”

He didn't pull away, and Rey didn’t let go, the two of them just standing in the middle of his apartment, Ben still supporting the laundry basket on his hip and his other hand unhelpfully clenched at his side as they kissed again and again.

He could feel Rey’s hand on his side drifting very slowly lower, but it wasn’t until she tucked two fingers into the waistband of his jeans that he managed to shake himself out of it, pulling away with another frustrated groan and a shake of his head.

“ _Laundry,_ ,” he implored her. “You need clean clothes for your shift. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She sighed, tilting her head back but thankfully keeping her hands to herself long enough for him to edge his way out the door with their laundry.

“Hurry up!” she called after him right before the door clicked shut, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

He felt... giddy. He honestly had no clue the last time he had felt anything even close to “giddy”; it was almost embarrassing. Scratch that, it _was_ embarrassing, he felt like a teenager with a crush.

It was a feeling that intensified when he was doing her laundry, surprisingly flustered by her simple panties and bra being mixed in with his clothes.

“Get a grip,” he chided himself, handling them with as much casualness as he could muster.

He also tried to act casual when he made it back up to his apartment with their clean clothes and found Rey in his reading chair, looking much the same as she had on Christmas Eve. That was to say—perfect.

This time, he did act on the instinct to go over to her, leaving the laundry basket on the sofa before kneeling before her and putting her knees over his shoulders. He was pretty sure for as long as he lived, he would never love a sound more than Rey moaning with his tongue between her legs.

“Tell Maz you’re sick,” he mumbled against her hip afterwards, the fine tremors in her thighs jittering against his shoulders. “Tell her you can’t come in.”

She sighed, the tips of her fingers scratching gently along the back of his neck, making him shiver.

“Tempting, but no, I can’t do that.”

He figured she would say so, but he had to ask.

“Worth a shot,” he sighed, making her giggle.

She slipped her legs off his shoulders, pushing him back and sliding off the edge of the chair to land in his lap. His dick gave a very hopeful twitch, still confined in his jeans where Ben had been ignoring it in order to focus his energy on Rey.

“How about,” she pressed the words against his neck, trailing her lips up it warmly, “you fuck me good and hard before I go. Really make me sore, so I won't be able to stop thinking about you all shift.”

 _Fuck,_ he couldn’t believe she just _said things like that._

He hooked his hands under her bottom with a groan, getting awkwardly to his feet with Rey in his arms, carrying her into his bedroom.

They used the last condom he had with Rey on her knees and her elbows planted into the mattress, putting her back into a steep arch that made Ben feel hot all over with how stunningly sexy it was. She also didn’t seem to be kidding about wanting him to fuck her hard enough to make her sore, her breathless chant of “Harder, come on, _fuck me_ ,” pushing him until he was sweating, the lewd sound of his hips impacting against her ass practically echoing against the walls.

She got herself off with her fingers, forehead pressed against the bed with a whining cry, the tight clench of her pussy driving him hard to his climax with a harsh groan.

“You spectacular girl,” he murmured between her shoulder blades, eliciting a happy little purr from her that made him smile.

Then she was getting dressed and taking off, insisting on walking instead of letting him drive her.

“It’s barely ten minutes to get there, and it’s not even that cold out,” she told him sternly, shrugging her coat on by his front door before checking her bag to make sure she had everything. “I walk there every day, Ben, I don’t mind.”

“I know, it’s just...” _I want to spend more time with you._

Rey wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug and a kiss to his neck. “I get done at 11. I’ll see you later.”

She slipped out the door with a smile, leaving him alone in the apartment for the first time since Christmas Eve.

***

During Rey’s absence, he actually managed to get some work done. His lesson plans didn’t vary much from semester to semester, unless he had a class that was entirely new to him, but he still liked to read through and update them. He also managed to make decent headway with his writing, both on an academic paper he was working on as well as his personal pet project: a science fiction novel that he had been chipping at on and off for at least a decade.

It was in the midst of the novel, several hours later, that his stomach gave a loud growl, making him acutely aware of just how hungry he was. He had a bad habit of doing that; getting so wrapped up in whatever he was doing that he didn’t even notice himself getting hungry until it was a hindrance. He looked at the clock, surprised to find that it was a little after 9, which explained why he was so hungry; he hadn’t eaten since around noon.

He bit his lip, thinking. He could cook something, that was true, or... well. There was Maz’s. He could go for dinner, then wait for Rey to get done her shift and drive them both home. He also hadn’t seen Maz in a very long time, it would be nice to catch up with her. Maybe, he considered with a chortle, he’d even bring her a little present.

He was barely through the threshold of the restaurant when Maz’s shockingly loud voice greeted him with a gusto he had almost forgotten the little woman was capable of. _“Ben Solo!”_

His face immediately pinked as half the patrons in the place turned to look at him, but he managed to put a forced little smile on his face through his embarrassment.

“Hello Maz,” he murmured, stooping considerably to accept her open arms and return the hug she was offering. Shortly on the heels of the hug, however, was a whack of her open hand against his arm, making him frown and huff. “What was that for?”

“ _How long_ has it been since you’ve stopped in? I could have died and you’d have never known!”

“Oh stop that,” he chided with a shake of his head. “Firstly, you’re very clearly immortal so I don’t believe that dying lark with you. Secondly, _if_ you managed to somehow shake free of this mortal coil, I would know in a heartbeat by the earthquakes and meteor showers that would immediately follow.”

She gave a boisterous laugh, squeezing his forearm humorously and shaking her head. “You still know how to flatter me, dear boy. Don’t think that’s going to get you any free drinks tonight.”

“That’s alright,” he grinned, reaching for the inside pocket of his coat, “I brought my own.”

Maz laughed again as he produced a bottle of Tullamore Dew with a shit-eating grin, and he allowed her to take it from him with an amused shake of her head.

“Well then,” she grinned at him. “That’s just earned you the best seat in the house. Come on, then, my boy, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“The best seat in the house,” he knew, had nothing to do with geographical location within Maz’s, and everything to do with who the best server working that evening. It didn’t surprise him when mere moments after he and Maz sat down, Rey was the one that appeared beside the table.

“Long time no see,” she said to him with a grin, handing him a menu before pulling her notepad from her apron pocket. “Drink?”

“Just water please,” he requested, returning her little smile with one of his own. “How’s your shift going? Maz isn’t running you too hard, I hope.”

Maz tutted and Ben smiled at her good-naturedly, earning him a chortle and gentle kick to his shin under the table.

“It’s not Maz I have to worry about, it’s the patrons. They’re sharks today.”

“Everyone futzing around with returning all those gifts from their parents they don’t like,” Maz laughed with a shake of her head. “Puts them on edge, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“Trying not to. What about him, Maz, think he’s going to give me trouble tonight?” Rey jerked her head at Ben with a smirk, then winked at him subtly. “You know how those university boys can be.”

“Insufferable,” Maz agreed sagely, crossing her arms. “But he brought his own whiskey so maybe he’ll get sloshed enough to tip you extra well.”

That made Rey laugh and the back of Ben’s neck get warm.

“Hm, maybe. Should I bring glasses for that, maybe some ice?”

“Glasses and ice,” Maz agreed, and Rey nodded with a broad smile before hurrying away to do just that.

“I love that girl,” Maz sighed when Rey was out of earshot, grinning happily. “One of the best I’ve ever had here.”

“Besides me, right?” he couldn’t help but dig, earning him a side-eyed look from his former boss.

“When you weren’t watching Bazine’s ass, you weren’t half bad.”

His cheeks immediately flushed, and he groaned as he covered his face with one hand. “God, _Bazine_. I haven’t thought of her in years, I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything, don’t tempt me to start telling stories, now.”

“Good lord, no, I shudder to think what crazy shit about me you remember.”

Rey dropped off the glasses of ice and Ben’s water, and Maz did the honor of cracking open the Tullamore Dew.

“Getting anything to eat tonight?” Rey asked him, noticing that he had left his menu unopened; mainly because he still knew most of it by heart.

“Let me guess,” Maz interrupted with a smirk, “the roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and carrots?”

“You really do remember everything, Maz.”

“You’re just a creature of habit,” Maz shook her head, her smile widening before she turned to Rey herself. “Tell the kitchen to make my favorite, Rey, dear. They’ll know.”

Rey busily jotted it down before taking her leave, giving Ben a little smile as she took the menu back.

He dared to let his eyes follow her for a moment, watching her smile at the bartender as she passed, the other woman giving her a return smile as she shook a martini mixer. When he turned back to Maz, he found the older woman giving him a knowing look, holding one of the glasses of ice as she filled it with two fingers of whiskey.

“That was very generous of you, by the way,” she commented, sliding the glass over to him as he tried to keep his features poker blank in the face of her scrutiny. “Allowing Rey to stay with you until she could get her keys back.”

He shrugged. “I’d be a pretty big asshole to leave her high and dry on Christmas Eve.”

“Said the Jewish boy,” she teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“The non-kosher Jewish boy who doesn’t even own a menorah,” he reminded her with a chortle.

Maz raised her glass in acknowledgement, and Ben raised his own to meet it, their glasses clinking together in a wordless toast before each of them took a sip. It left a pleasant burn down the back of his throat, making him give a little cough while Maz just pursed her lips in satisfaction.

“Speaking of menorahs,” Maz murmured, Ben knowing exactly where she was going already. “When's the last time you called your mother?”

“I don’t,” he said curtly, then took another swallow of the amber liquid in his glass. “You know that Maz, please don't ask me.”

“I'll keep asking until the answer is yes.” She gave him a stern look that would have undoubtedly crumpled weaker men. “She misses you. So does Han.”

“I really don't want to talk about my parents, Maz.” He leaned back in his chair, clenching his jaw and rubbing his hands against his thighs under the table, staring unflinchingly back at her piercing stare.

She relented after a tense moment, muttering something under her breath that Ben didn't understand, but he had a feeling was her insulting him in Swahili. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Fine,” she sighed with another swallow of whiskey. “How's the progress on that book you keep claiming you're writing?”

She loved to tease him about his book; he had been working on it for so long but had never let anyone see it, never satisfied enough with his progress to feel it worthy of sharing. So Maz took to teasing that he only claimed to be writing a book to sound impressive; and in all honesty he would be lying if he said he hadn't at least used his book as a chat up line once in a while.

Regardless, it was a much better topic to talk about than his family, and he gladly subjected Maz to his struggles with writer's block until Rey dropped off their plates.

“Remind me to get that next time I'm here, Maz, that smells incredible,” Rey chirped as she put down Maz's plate; a variation of the fettucini alfredo that swapped fettucini for ziti noodles and added so much spice to the alfredo sauce it was making Ben’s eyes water across the table.

“Jesus, you’re both asking for ulcers with that thing.” He shook his head, unwrapping his silverware from its cloth napkin while Maz laughed at him.

“Nonsense. Boosts your immune system, how do you think I’ve lived so long?”

“Witchcraft was my guess.”

“Oh quiet, you.”

Rey chortled, and Maz patted her arm with a sigh and a “why do I put up with you?” smile aimed at Ben. “Forgive him, dear, he thinks he’s funny. No one’s had the heart to tell him otherwise.”

“I’m hilarious,” he said cheekily, making Maz roll her eyes.

“I don’t know about _hilarious_ ,” Rey chimed in with a smirk. “Being a smartass and being funny aren't the same thing, you know.”

Maz laughed, patting Rey's arm again as Ben arched an eyebrow at her with narrowed eyes. Cheeky girl.

“I don’t know, Maz, can’t image a waitress who insults her customers is one of your best.” He smirked. “Can't imagine her getting a good tip, either.”

“Oh shush,” Maz chastised him as Rey raised her eyebrows back, her satisfied little smile telling him exactly how much she didn't believe his little threat. “She's right and you know it.”

“I admit to no such knowledge.”

“Punk,” Maz sighed, gesturing at him to Rey with a wave of her hand as she shook her head. “You see what I mean?”

“I could spill something on him if you like,” Rey offered, making Maz laugh again and Ben look at her challengingly.

“Hm, tempting. Maybe later.”

Rey chuckled, then asked them if they needed anything else before she departed to check on her other tables.

“I love that girl,” Maz said cheerfully again, digging into her ulcer-inducing pasta as Ben started cutting his chicken.

 _Pretty sure I do too,_ he thought, watching her refill drinks for another table.

“So you better be good to her, you understand me, Solo?”

That snapped his attention back to Maz, who was giving him a serious stare over the rim of her whiskey glass.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Her voice was no-nonsense, and her expression even more so. “You’re more than a bit obvious, and so is she. Subtly isn’t exactly in your wheelhouse.”

Heat crept up his face while his body felt frozen, his heart starting to pound uncomfortably. He hated that Maz could still make him feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Please don’t talk about it to anyone,” was all he could think to say, quiet and uncomfortable. “We'll tone it down. But this whole thing is a bit-”

“Complicated,” Maz sighed, taking another swallow of whiskey. “Yes, I daresay it is.”

He looked back down to his plate, sighing before stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and popping it into his mouth. It was just as delicious as he remembered, but he wasn't enjoying it at much as he wished he was with Maz's comment hanging above his head.

“I mean it, though,” Maz added after a moment. “Rey's a brilliant girl, Ben. Treat her well.”

It was easy for his eyes to find Rey, her laugh floating through the din of the dining room drawing him like a magnet, and he let his gaze linger for a moment. “Believe me Maz, I have no plans to do anything else.”

***

Maz and Ben drifted through far less emotionally fraught topics as they ate, with Rey occasionally popping by to check on them. By the time they were finished, plates long cleared as they talked and drank (Ben switching from the whiskey to coffee after only one glass, needing to be sober for the drive home), Rey had only a half hour left in her shift.

“I hope this means I’ll be seeing more of you?” Maz asked him, leaving her chair and coming around to his side of the table to give him a parting hug before she attended to some closing work in her office.

“Most likely,” he smiled, staying seated to keep them closer to eye level, “if Rey doesn’t get tired of me.”

“Make sure that she doesn’t!” Maz wagged a finger at him with a raised eyebrow. “I expect to hear nothing but how you’re a perfect gentleman.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, and she tugged a lock of his hair before taking her leave, the bottle of Tullamore Dew tucked under her arm.

“Think Maz would let you get dessert on her too?” Rey’s voice came over his shoulder, followed by her appearing at his elbow. She looked charmingly disheveled from running around the restaurant all night, flyaways coming from her ponytail and her sleeves flecked with the evidence of the various plates she had been handling.

“Probably, but I won't allow it,” he answered. “She’s been too kind to me as it is.”

“She does that,” Rey laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. “Want some dessert anyway?”

“Are you on the menu?” he couldn't stop himself from murmuring with a cheeky smirk, taking a mischievous kind of glee from the pink that crept over her face.

“Behave yourself, mister,” she warned with a raised eyebrow. “My boss doesn't tolerate men talking to waitresses like that.”

“Lucky I know the boss, then.”

“All the more reason for her to chew you out, honestly. Guess you don’t know her very well.”

He was grateful that the last few months had afforded him the opportunity to know her cues, to be able to read the amusement in her eyes and the subtle quirk of her mouth that told him she was leaning into his cheeky joke with sass of her own, and not actually getting upset with his play at being a jerk.

“I’d rather get to know you. When’s your shift over?”

“Sorry, my boyfriend is going to be waiting for me.”

 _Boyfriend._ How surreal was that?

“Yeah?” His voice came out a little raspy before he swallowed. “Big tough guy, your boyfriend?”

She laughed, sliding her hands into the pockets of her apron. “You could say that.”

He hummed, pretending to be giving her thoughtful consideration, and it made Rey smile, looking away from him with a little shake of her head and a tiny laugh.

“Tell you what,” he eventually said, drawing her eyes back up, “I’ll have a slice of the chocolate cake, but only if you share it with me. Your big tough boyfriend wouldn’t tell you not to eat free cake, would he?”

“Not if he knew what was good for him.”

It was Ben’s turn to laugh with a shake of his head, picking up his coffee mug. “And a refill, if you would be so kind?”

“Now you’re pushing it,” she quipped as she took his mug, making him chortle.

“The worst sort of patron, I know.”

“Bet you’re going to camp here until close, too.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Yep, definitely the worst kind of patron,” she tsked playfully as she walked away to refill his coffee, and Ben at least made an effort to be subtle about the way he was checking out her ass as she went.

When she came back with his coffee and his slice of cake, he thanked her and gave her a smile. “Charge me for this, okay? Even if you have to sneak it past Maz, I’m not walking out of here without paying for _something_ tonight.”

“Alright, but it's your funeral.”

“That'll you'll attend with full mourning clothes and a box of tissues, I hope.”

“Hm, I don't know, I haven't seen what kind of tip you'll leave yet. A lot hinges on that.”

“Here's a tip; don't eat that pasta monstrosity Maz does, you'll get an ulcer.”

Rey laughed, her whole body leaning back with it, her face upturned, and it was a losing battle for him to try to keep any semblance of his deadpan expression in the face of her open amusement.

“Never figured you for a wimp when it came to spice,” she smirked, cocking her hip to the side and raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“I am not a _wimp_ , I simply put my gastrointestinal health above the novelty of burning my tongue off, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked at him skeptically, so he shook his head and picked up his fork, using the side of it to cut a piece off his cake slice.

“I change my mind, you don't get any cake.”

“Oh now that's just plain evil,” she gaped at him as he scooped the piece into his mouth. “I'm charging you double for that.”

He just smirked, licking frosting off the fork, and the way her gaze flicked down to his mouth to follow his tongue certainly didn't go unnoticed by him.

“Excuse me!”

Rey's eyes were pulled to the table a couple rows away, the little group sitting there looking ready for their check and clearly trying to get her attention.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I'll stop hogging you.”

She briefly squeezed his shoulder with a smile before walking over to take care of the other table, and Ben busied himself with adding half a creamer to his coffee and eating a bit more of the cake.

Despite his threat, he saved half for her, requesting a box with his check so she could have it when they got back to the apartment.

“I thought you were going to charge me double?” he teased as he handed her back the check with his card.

“I still might. I haven’t processed your card yet. Unless that box of cake is for me, that is.”

“I could be persuaded to give it to you.”

“Persuaded, huh? That sounds pretty shady.”

“ _Me?_ Shady? I think I might be offended.”

“You know who says stuff like that? Shady people. And old men who think they’re funny.”

“Are you calling me old, now?”

She didn’t answer, just giving him a knowing look instead, and he was so very tempted to swat her ass as she walked away, the cheeky girl.

He liked this little game, pretending that they didn’t know each other, acting like he was just an overly flirty patron. He considered that maybe they could have actually met this way, in another life; him stopping in to visit Maz and ending up with Rey as his server. He wondered if she would have been the first one to flirt, or maybe she would have found a way to ask Maz about him.

He played into it by writing his phone number at the top of the check, along with a twenty dollar tip and a little note; _Call me if you ever get rid of your big tough boyfriend._

Rey laughed when she saw it, shaking her head but stuffing it in her apron anyway.

Another refill on coffee, then he wasted time on his phone until 11 finally rolled around.

“Staying after close means you’re busing tables!”

He looked up at the sound of Maz's voice, the older woman emerging from the kitchen with a cloth and a spray bottle of sanitizing cleaner. “Chop, chop, Solo!”

“Now I remember why I got a teaching job as rapidly as possible,” he sighed, earning him a flick with the cleaning cloth.

“It's either the tables or waiting outside in the cold.”

He got up, grabbing his coat as he made his way toward the door, and Maz immediately followed, flicking the cloth at him again.

“Lazy!” she scolded. “See if I treat you to dinner again next time!”

He stopped and gave her a grin, leaning down to kiss her cheek before taking the cloth and sanitizer.

“You're lucky I love you, Maz.”

She scoffed, taking his coat from him so he could roll up his sleeves. “Yeah right, try the other way around!”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk, but did as she bade him anyway, wiping down each table, booth, and chair dutifully.

“Is it weird that I still remember how to close down the restaurant? I haven't done it in years, I don't know how I remember it all so vividly. I don't know why I'm letting Maz push me into doing it now!”

“Think of it this way,” Rey murmured as joined him at one of the tables that still had dishes on it, pulling a cart behind her so they could take it all back to the kitchen to be cleaned, “the faster this all gets done, the faster you get to take me home with you.”

“Mm, don’t know if your boyfriend would appreciate that.”

“Ben.” Her fingers touched his forearm, drawing his gaze up to hers. She was done with their little game, he could see it in her eyes. “Hurry up so you can take me home.”

His throat was thick as he swallowed, looking from her eyes down to her lips before he nodded.

When all was said and done, Ben made sure that Rey had her apartment key, and drove them home.

***

“You know what I realized?” Rey giggled as she let them both into her apartment, Ben trailing behind her.

“What?”

“I didn’t actually have your number until you gave it to me tonight.”

He chortled, looking around curiously. There was standard furniture, like a long-term hotel, along with Rey’s own little tree and various odds and ends, such as a small stack of notebooks on the counter and a little laptop charging on the coffee table.

“I hadn’t even thought of that, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Rey giggled again with a shake of her head, pushing her sleeves up her arms as she started organizing her things so they could move them over to Ben’s place. “The fact that you asked me to live with you for three weeks before you even gave me your phone number is completely nuts, you realize that, right? We’re doing this whole thing backwards.”

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off with a half-shrug, shoving his hands in his pockets and letting out a long, slow breath as he looked at the floor. “If you’ve changed your mind-”

“Nope, no takesies-backsies, too late, you’re stuck with me.”

He raised his gaze to her again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “No takesies-backsies? Really?”

“Alright there, English degree, leave me alone. Here, make yourself useful and pack my notebooks and laptop into my backpack, alright? I’m gonna go gather up my clothes.”

Ben did as she asked as she disappeared into the little apartment’s single bedroom, resisting the temptation to peek at the notebooks’ contents. Most likely they were class notebooks from the previous semester, but he didn’t want to be a snoop regardless.

A few minutes later Rey came back out, two of those reusable grocery store bags in her hands. “All that’s left is to bring over the meager amount of food from my fridge and I think that’s everything. I can leave the little tree here until semester starts again, since you were sweet enough to buy one for me.”

He took one of the bags from her with a little frown. “You don’t have a duffle bag or something?”

She chortled, getting her backpack and shrugging it onto her shoulders. “Ben, you keep forgetting I’m literally the embodiment of ‘broke college student.’ These grocery bags are a step up in comparison to the garbage bag approach I used last year.”

For all his parents’ flaws, he had to admit that making sure he had the things he needed was not one of them. Ben was never an ostentatious person, the idea of buying popular brands and playing into fads never interested him, but he could never say that his parents didn’t provide for him growing up. It was obvious that Rey had far from the same care provided to her, and though she would no doubt fight him on it, it made him want to make up for all the years she had struggled.

He didn’t voice his sentiments, but he certainly made a mental note of the kinds of things Rey probably didn’t have that would make her life easier. A duffle bag and maybe even a laundry bag as well as things like good, insulated shoes for the rest of the winter season seemed like a safe bet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she suddenly said, taking a step back from him, her demeanor changing in an instant to one of anger. Her posture was tense, defensive, her discomfort clear as a bell, and it pulled him up short with surprise. “I don’t need your pity and I don’t need you to rescue me from my struggles or whatever _Pretty Woman_ nonsense dudes with money like to do. I worked hard as hell for my scholarship, I work hard as hell at Maz’s, and that’s all I need to do until I graduate and can get a job doing what I really want to do. Alright?”

He blinked, the steely determination in her eyes almost making him step back. It was such a 180 from the gentle teasing about his phone number she had been doing just five minutes prior, and it took him several seconds to recover enough to respond.

“I don’t pity you,” he said, “and this isn’t some _Pretty Woman_ thing.”

“Then stop looking at me like I’m some little orphan you’re going to polish up.”

“You’re mixing your movies. Are you orphan Annie or Pretty Woman?”

“Neither! That’s the point!”

“Rey,” he said her name sternly, quietly. She was getting upset, which was the last thing he wanted.

Rey deflated a little, looking away from him and uncomfortably shifting the bag she was holding from one hand to the other.

“I don’t pity you, and I’m not trying to turn you into some rags to riches trope, okay?”

She looked at him again, sighing out of her nose and shifting her weight, her jaw still clenched and her eyes narrowed. Ben looked toward the door, indicating it half-heartedly with his free hand.

“Do you still want to come back to mine?” he asked, half expecting her to say no.

“Yes,” she murmured quietly.

“Okay.” He nodded, moving toward the door so he could put her bag of clothes in his room.

The process of moving her things over was a very short one, but it was far more tense than Ben thought it would be when they had started the evening.

“I’m going to shower, if that’s alright?” she asked him as he found a space in his cabinet for her Flaming Hot Cheetos—something he would have teased her about if he thought that the tension had eased enough between them to allow such a thing.

“Of course,” he said with a little nod, opening the fridge to put her half-carton of eggs next to his.

She disappeared into the bathroom without another word, leaving Ben to finish putting her last few food items in his kitchen.

Then he paced, agitated and frustrated. The evening had been going fantastically; he’d made headway on his writing, he’d had a great dinner with Maz, he and Rey had had fun with their little flirting game. It was all going splendidly, and he’d hoped to top off the evening burning through one or two of the condoms from the new box he had purchased on his way to dinner; a box that was still in his coat pocket, nearly forgotten in the wake of the tense near-argument they’d had in her apartment.

“Fuck this,” he suddenly growled, his long legs carrying him swiftly through the apartment and to the bathroom door. It wasn’t locked, so he opened it and stepped in.

“Rey?” he asked, her little gasp telling him he had startled her.

“Y-yes?” she squeaked behind the shower curtain.

“Can I join you?”

She was quiet for a few agonizing seconds, long enough for his heart to start beating in a rapid nervousness, before the corner of the shower curtain opened a little, and he could see her water-dark hair and wet face.

“Okay,” she said softly, biting her lip, and he hurriedly got undressed in answer.

The water was slightly cooler than he usually had it, but the shower temperature became the last thing on his mind when he laid eyes on her. She was standing under the showerhead, the water sluicing down her body and her warm brown eyes gazing at him softly.

He stepped a little closer, and breathed out in relief when Rey reached for him, pulling him under the water with her. He ducked his head, closing his eyes as he allowed the water to stream over his hair, getting it thoroughly wet before he ran his hands over it to smooth it back from his face.

Rey gave a tiny giggle, prompting him to open his eyes and look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t think I really realized how fluffy your hair was until now,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke her hand over the thick strands gently, then trailing her touch down to trace the shell of his ear.

He felt his face get hot, perpetually awkwardly embarrassed about his ears, but Rey didn’t seem fazed; her fingers following the curve of his ear down and around to his jawline and chin.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, fervently hoping she would say yes.

Instead of answering, she went up on her toes, swaying forward to lean into his chest as he ducked his head to meet hers.

Soft, slow, gentle—Ben wasn’t in any sort of rush and neither was she. This felt so much better than the weird tension that had followed them from Rey’s apartment, and it made Ben sigh longingly as he wrapped his arms around her hot, wet body.

“I liked flirting with you tonight,” he decided to confess softly, trailing his lips down from her mouth to her neck. “It was kind of fun, pretending we were just meeting.”

“It was,” she agreed softly, her fingers trailing along his shoulders and arms. “Who knew you could be so charming?”

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he nipped gently at her neck in retaliation, making her squirm in his arms with a little gasp.

“Who knew you could be so cheeky?” he countered. “You just ditched all semblance of respect for me as soon as your grade came through, hm? Ganging up on me with Maz.”

Rey giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving a tight squeeze. “Well, you’re a punk, like she says. You deserve it.”

He pinched her ass next, grinning at her squeal and wiggle against him before pulling back to look at her face, her mischievous smirk making his heart pick up tempo.

“I’m taking that tip back,” he tsked, shaking his head as Rey just grinned a little wider.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You gonna get your big tough boyfriend to beat me up if I do?”

Rey laughed at that, nodding and pressing up to kiss him again with a soft hum. “Yes, definitely.”

“Eh, I think I could take him.” He shrugged.

“Oh do you now? How do you know?”

“Tell me about him, then. Why don’t you think I can take him?”

Rey sank back down onto her heels, her hands running down from his shoulders to his chest, the water making her palms slide over his slick skin easily.

“Well...” she murmured thoughtfully, chewing her lip for a moment. “‘Big’ isn’t an exaggeration, he’s one of the tallest guys I’ve ever met. And just...”

Rey sucked her teeth, her gaze trailing down from his face to his chest, her blunt fingernails scratching gently over his pecs. “Broad. You should seem him work out, he’s amazing.”

He had half expected her to fabricate some fictional boyfriend to talk about, but her gaze and her tone made it crystal clear that it was him she was reflecting on; and despite being the one to set up the opportunity for her to do so, it was still flustering to hear her talk so openly about how she viewed his body, and her very clear admiration and desire for it.

“Yeah?” he breathed softly, trailing his hands down her back gently, following the path of the water still cascading down on them.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “He carried me like I barely weighed anything once, halfway across campus. If my ankle hadn’t hurt so much at the time I probably would have gotten off just from that.”

His face really did get hot then, remembering very vividly the feel of her in his arms as he carried her from the track to the health center when she sprained her ankle. It was the closest he thought he would ever get to her, and despite the guilt that ate at him for being the reason she had gotten hurt, he had cherished that closeness.

“And he’s gorgeous,” she added, her hands coming back up to stroke over his wet hair, her gaze dancing all over his face. “He’s that ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ cliche to a ‘T’. I had a crush from the first minute I saw him, and that was before he even opened his mouth to speak. _That voice,_ god.”

He was decidedly flustered and embarrassed now, her compliments far beyond the scope of his tease about some fictional boyfriend, and he ducked his head down to kiss her, wanting to quiet all the far-too-kind words coming out of her mouth.

“He’s a lucky guy,” he whispered against her lips, sliding his hands up her back to cup the back of her head, “to have someone as breathtaking as you.”

Rey shivered, her fingers clenching in his thick, wet hair as she pressed another kiss against his mouth.

“And I think you’re right,” he hummed, “I don’t think I could take him. Maybe I won’t steal back your tip after all.”

“God, Ben, just shut up and let me go down on you.”

The bluntness of her words made him breathe out a little gasp, a gut-punch of desire spreading rapidly through his body as Rey sank down to her knees, one of her hands settling on his hip as the other took hold of him, his cock just barely starting to fill before she slipped it between her lips.

She was fucking _merciless_ , immediately starting a deep, quick rhythm that had his blood practically flying south through his veins, filling his length in record time and making goosebumps break out over his skin.

“Fucking— _christ_ , baby, slow down,” he groaned, his hand going to the side of her face, gentling her movement and drawing her gaze up to him. “That’s too fucking good, let me breathe.”

Rey pulled off, turning her head and pressing a kiss to his palm, even as her hand continued to stroke him, albeit at a much slower, gentler pace.

“Thought that was the point,” she murmured, giving a little squeeze to the head of his cock that made him moan. “To make you feel good.”

God, she was perfect.

“That’s why I want to savor it,” he replied softly, stroking his thumb over her lips. “The same way I savor every fucking moment you let me eat you out.”

Rey’s eyelids fluttered as she moaned, her eyelashes clumped together a little from the water. Then she gave a little nod, taking his thumb between her lips for a moment with a tight suck and lave of her tongue, sending a spark of lust through his belly that nearly made him whimper.

“Yes sir,” she murmured as she released his digit, opening her eyes again before leaning forward to take him back in her mouth.

Ben _did_ whimper then, the sinful combination of her calling him “sir” paired with the incredible feeling of her hot mouth beginning a slow, relaxed rhythm sending shivers down his spine.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the palm of one hand settling on the back of her head as the other rested on her shoulder, her tongue moving in the most exquisite, flat swirl over the head of his dick. Rey sighed out a moan in answer, tongue leisurely rubbing back and forth over his glans now as her hand squeezed and stroked along his shaft.

She had really taken his “slow down” instruction to heart; sinking slow and loose down his length before sucking tight as she pulled back, every pass of her hand and her mouth making pleasure jolt through his pelvis. It was heavenly, it was certainly the best head he had ever gotten, and he considered the real possibility that his knees might give out by the time she was finished with him.

“God, Rey,” he groaned, trying his very damnedest not to pull her forward or thrust into her mouth, but it was an effort that was getting harder and harder by the second. “God, sweetheart, that’s—that’s—”

It was going to make him come, was what it was, and Rey most certainly sensed that, the tempo of her mouth gradually speeding up, her soft moans making it all that much hotter.

He shifted a little, leaning his shoulder against the shower wall to support himself, fine tremors shivering through his thighs now and the muscles down his belly getting tight.

But what really did it, what sent him over the edge with a strangled sound and a hard grip to her shoulder, was the way she looked up; taking him to the back of her mouth and swallowing rapidly as she did it, like a fucking _challenge_ , like she was daring him to come and he was helpless to even try to refuse to obey.

“Fuck— shit—I’m sorry,” he immediately wheezed, completely lacking the control to pull back, despite the part of his brain telling him he was being a complete asshole for coming in her mouth without asking.

Rey, however, didn’t seem the least bit concerned with that, still sucking and swallowing and squeezing her hand around him again and again; her eyes closed now and breathing soft little moans around him so fucking beautifully.

She didn’t stop until he gave an overwhelmed whimper, pushing against her shoulder, and her mouth slid off him with a wet sound.

“Was that... okay?” she asked, because apparently Ben absolutely losing his mind from the moment she put her mouth on him wasn’t proof enough.

“That was fucking amazing,” he panted, cupping the back of her head and shifting his other hand from her shoulder to her chin, swiping his thumb up to rub across her flushed bottom lip.

“Then why did you say sorry?”

Ben felt an awkward blush creeping up his neck and cheeks at her question. “Ah... well... it wasn’t really polite of me to not give you any warning like that. A lot of... ladies... well, they don’t really like guys to come in their mouth.”

Rey snorted, standing up and wrapping her arms around his waist, her head ducking against his chest to lick at a trail of water that was dripping down from his hair. “That seems a bit hypocritical. Expecting you not to mind my taste but being weird about yours.”

Ben laughed, squeezing her tight and burying his head down against her wet shoulder. She really was such an exquisite woman.

“That’s nice to hear. I’m glad you don’t mind, that was really sexy.”

Rey giggled, trailing her lips up from his chest to his neck warmly, and he hummed softly at the sensation.

“Speaking of your taste...” he murmured, sliding one hand down her back squeezing her ass for a moment before dipping lower between her legs.

“Mm, no, not yet,” she said softly, pulling his hand away and shaking her head. He frowned in confused disappointment. “The water’s starting to get cold, and I really need to actually use soap and stuff. Later?”

He sighed, pulling back enough to kiss her, cupping her head in his hands easily. She was most certainly mistaken if she thought he _wasn’t_ planning to spend all evening between her thighs anyway, so what was another twenty minutes?

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” she teased against his lips with a smirk, making him chortle.

“Deal.”


	9. Chapter 9

“If I go down, I'm taking you with me,” Rey threatened him, clinging tightly to his arm as she did her best to balance unsteadily on the thin skates she currently had her feet in.

Ben chortled, laying his hand over both of hers on his arm and giving an encouraging pat. “I won't let you fall, sweetheart, don't worry.”

She gave a very skeptical “Uh-huh,” that made him smirk. She was more so just letting Ben pull her along than actually skating, but that was certainly better than falling. The ice rink was busy on New Year's Eve, which wasn't surprising, but it also meant that Rey was far from the only one on wobbly legs out on the ice.

“You make it look so effortless,” she sighed, holding a little tighter to him uncertainly.

“That's because you're scissoring your legs back and forth instead of pushing off like I am.”

“Woah there, who am I scissoring?”

“Oh shush,” he admonished, giving a quick look around, hoping no one had heard her saucy remark. “Look.”

He demonstrated slowly, explaining how to push off, how to get a rhythm going, leaving her briefly clinging tight to the wall of the rink so she could watch his movements. He ended up doing a lap of the rink, picking up his pace, sliding easily around the groups of families and gaggles of teenagers until he came back around to her, her amused smile making him raise his eyebrows questioningly.

“What?” he asked, coming to a stop beside her.

“Ever the teacher,” she said, smirking a little wider at him. “I didn’t realize you were such a jack-of-all-trades, though, Professor.”

He rolled his eyes, holding his arm out for her to take as she experimented with the instructions he had given her.

“Yes, well, I briefly dabbled with the idea of being a professional hockey player when I was a teenager.”

“Did you actually?”

“Mm-hm. I was alright, but I think I spent more time in the penalty box than actually playing.”

“I'm from the desert, Ben, I don't know a single thing about hockey.”

He chortled, tensing his arm to keep her upright when she awkwardly tripped over some uneven ice.

“Time out, more or less.”

“Naughty boy, huh? What did you do?”

“Fighting, mostly. Occasionally some dirty playing and general asshole-ary.”

Rey laughed, looking up at him with a shake of her head. “Hellion.”

“Most definitely.” He gave her a mischievous smirk, far too pleased when she bit her lip with a little grin of her own.

“Now then, Miss Johnson,” he added after a moment, pulling her hands off his arm so he could get in front of her, ignoring her squawk of protest, “time to practice what you've learned.”

He easily turned around, skating backwards slowly and holding his hands out, ready to steady her but not quite close enough for her to easily reach him to hold on.

“Oh God, I'm so scared,” she squeaked, still kind of scissoring her legs instead of pushing off properly, making him shake his head with a sigh and a smirk.

“I've got you, Rey, I promise. Concentrate! What did I tell you about angling your skates?”

It was slow progress, but little by little Rey started to get the hang of it, still looking scared but increasingly less wobbly as he encouraged and corrected.

She squeaked as she suddenly pitched forward, her eyes wide with fright, but—as promised—he was there to catch her, taking a firm grip on her arms and keeping her steady.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured again, rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against her arms and giving her a gentle smile, her fingers digging into his coat tightly in return.

“I'm shit at this,” she moaned, pulling herself closer to him by her grip on his sleeves, making him sigh with a shake of his head.

“You're not shit. You're just new at it, nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts somewhere.”

He let her scoot even closer, though he kept them drifting lazily over the ice, occasionally throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t bumping into anyone.

“You know,” she said with an amused smirk, “you could probably use more of this nice, ‘everyone starts somewhere’ approach in your actual classroom.”

“And why on earth would I do that?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you were into my aloof, asshole teacher thing.”

“Whatever I did to give you that impression, I completely take it back.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he gnashed his teeth at her, miming biting at her tongue with a smirk.

She chortled loudly, putting a hand over her mouth when it echoed in the high-roofed building and drew a few curious glances from passerby.

“Now who's misbehaving?” she playfully scolded.

He shrugged, letting go of one of her arms in order to swing back around to her side, and Rey gratefully resumed clinging to him, though he wasn’t so much dragging her along with him as he had been doing before, just guiding and helping her maintain her balance.

“See?” he murmured with a little smile. “You’ve improved already.”

“Yeah alright, stop buttering me up, you’re already getting laid tonight.”

He sighed with an exasperated shake of his head, giving her a disapproving frown. “You’re just really picking on me tonight, aren’t you?”

She chortled again, giving him a side-eyed look.

“Oh yes,” she said dryly, “I’m truly terrible to you. Whatever shall you do with me?”

“I could ditch you out here on the ice,” he purred snarkily, amused when her eyes widened. “Good luck getting back around without anyone to lean on.”

“You wouldn't,” she insisted, but he noticed her grip tightening on his arm anyway, making him smirk.

“I might. You're being awfully bratty today, I think it would be a just punishment.”

“You’re bratty every day, yet I still offer to blow you before my shift, don’t I?”

He was learning not to underestimate how openly and unhesitatingly forward Rey could be, but it still made heat spread over his face in a rapid blush. Rey, on the other hand, gave a gratifying smirk, pure mischief glinting in her eyes.

“You do know we’re in public, don’t you?” he murmured with a quirked eyebrow, but she just laughed with a shrug.

“You could always take me somewhere... not public.”

It was a very tempting proposition, but she was being just a little too smug about it, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to wind her up a little.

“I could,” he hummed thoughtfully, “but we’d miss the fireworks show on the projector over the ice. Seems like a shame to skip that, don’t you think?”

She sighed again, leaning against his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. “I hate that this is actually a tough choice for me. You do realize that, right?”

He grinned, sliding his arm around her waist and giving a light squeeze as one of her hands settled on his shoulder and the other took a tight grip on his lapel. “I do.”

She sighed again, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder but not protesting as they passed by the exit to the rink instead of moving toward it. Fireworks it was, then. That was fine by him; this was about giving Rey a new experience, about enjoying something together that wasn't just watching _Star Trek_ at home.

Not that he could complain about watching _Star Trek_ with her, admittedly. Or any of the other shows they used to relax in the evenings, if they weren't busy fooling around as soon as she got back from Maz's. She was an excellent companion for things like that; watching shows or movies, or even just reading or silently using her phone if he was in the middle of a good stretch of writing. They weren't afraid of silence, he was relieved to say, as long as they were spending time together they were happy.

It was a half hour to midnight when they left the rink to get hot chocolate to warm up, sitting on one of the benches as they sipped the somewhat bland Swiss Miss.

“Remind me to make some from scratch,” he said with a little frown at his styrofoam cup, “this stuff is terrible, you deserve better hot chocolate.”

“Of _course_ you have a recipe,” Rey chortled, blowing gently on hers before taking a sip. “Tell me the truth; are you secretly Gordon Ramsay?”

He gave her a narrowed-eyed look, earning him a cheeky grin in return, and he took another sip of hot chocolate before answering. “He's actually quite nice, you know. The whole Hell’s Kitchen thing is just an act.”

“I didn’t say a single thing.”

“You _implied._ ”

“I did not! You made that comparison all on your own. I was simply referring to your cooking talents.”

“Oh be quiet,” he huffed, hooking his arm around her waist and squeezing tightly, making her wiggle and laugh.

“Seriously, though! How do you have a recipe for everything?”

“Lots of cookbooks and the internet.” He shrugged. And too many evenings where he felt like if he didn’t _make_ something he’d _destroy_ something, but she didn’t need to be weighed down by that.

“Were you a naughty boy who snuck a hot-plate into your dorm?”

“Absolutely, and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse about it.”

She chuckled with a little shake of her head, switching her hot chocolate to one hand so she could hook her arm across the small of his back, cuddling closer to him on their cold little bench by the food stand. It was a quarter to midnight at that point, and the energy in the place was buzzing all around them, everyone waiting for the big projector over the ice to come on, showing the countdown to midnight and the fireworks immediately after.

“Want to go back on the ice?” he asked when it was five minutes to midnight, both their cups empty and one of the ice rink’s employees handing out party hats and noisemakers near the entrance to the rink.

“Only if I can get one of those hats and a noisemaker.”

He had a feeling she would want one, and immediately nipped any funny ideas she had in the bud. “Only if you don’t attempt to force me into one.”

She scrunched her nose up at him. “You’re absolutely no fun.”

“I beg to differ. ‘No fun’ would be sitting at home eating your disgusting Cheetos and watching the lame pre-parties they air on all the news channels.”

“Firstly, they are not disgusting, you food snob, and secondly, that wouldn’t be ‘no fun’ that would be _sad_. Please don’t tell me that’s what you did last year.”

“Last year I was in Australia getting drunk on a beach, thank you very much.”

That seemed to catch her off guard, and he couldn't help giving her a haughty smirk as he stood and offered her his hand. “Come on, then, before they're all gone.”

She took his hand, letting him lead her back onto the ice, stopping to get her a hat and a noisemaker as promised. Then they joined the throng of people meandering around the rink, waiting out the last few moments before midnight.

When the ten-second countdown started, everyone seemed to drift to a stop, shouting the numbers out, the unified voices echoing in the high-roofed building and the projector airing the ball drop in New York City.

“Three...!”

He looked at Rey, her silly gold party hat at a jaunty angle on her head, her smile wide and her eyes bright as she watched the screen.

“Two...!”

He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her, and Rey immediately did the same, giving a little squeeze around his waist.

“One...!”

She was so beautiful, even with the silly hat.

“Happy New Year!”

Rey cheered and whooped, twirling the noisemaker around with one hand as she held tight to his waist with the other. Around them, the cacophony of noise from the others cheering and using their noisemakers almost became deafening as Auld Lang Syne started played over the loudspeakers.

But as soon as her eyes met his, he ducked his head, giving her a warm, firm kiss that she immediately leaned into.

“Happy New Year, Rey,” he murmured against her lips.

“Happy New Year, Ben.”

***

 _Happy New Year, indeed,_ he thought, back at his apartment with Rey gorgeously spread on his bed.

They had stayed for the fireworks—Ben more preoccupied with the feeling of Rey snuggled against him, silly hat in her pocket so she could tuck her head under his chin as they watched—but by the time the finale illuminated the screen and the final cheers and applause rang out from the crowd, all he wanted to do was return home and wrap himself up in the warmth that was one Rey Johnson.

Rey, it seemed, was on completely the same page. No sooner had the door closed behind them than she had backed him against the door, pushing up on her toes to reach his mouth as her hands slipped the buttons on the front of his long coat.

“Have I mentioned how hot you look in this coat?” she had murmured against his lips, sliding her hands inside it to run up and down his sides, making his abdomen clench. “All tall and imposing and sharp. Look like you can take over the goddamn world in this coat.”

Despite her love for it, however, she had been more than happy to push it down his shoulders, both of them leaving a trail of clothes through the apartment and to his bed.

“Wait,” she gasped, threading her fingers through his hair, Ben’s head halfway down her abdomen and intent on going even lower. “Ben, hold up!”

Her fingers tightened, tugging at the dark strands between her digits, and he let out an irritated growl as he raised his head. “What?”

“Come up here, I have an idea,” she said, wiggling away from him, sitting up and releasing his hair so she could pat the bit of bed next to her, beckoning him to join her properly on the mattress instead of resting at the foot of it.

He was intrigued; not completely sure what she had in mind, but definitely willing to find out.

She pushed on his shoulders once he sat, leaning him flat on his back and giving him a quick kiss with a cheeky smirk. Then she shuffled up the bed on her knees, and the next thing he knew she was straddling his head, facing toward his body so she could plant her hands on either side of his hips and lean down to take him in her mouth.

He couldn't help but gasp, his hips reflexively hitching up into that wonderful wet heat, the sensation of her tongue swirling around the head of his cock sending sparks up his spine. He was embarrassed to admit that it took his brain a good handful of seconds to catch up and take the hint after that, but when it did, he didn’t waste a moment more before he took her hips in his hands and angled his head up; coaxing her to spread her legs more, bringing her lower down over him so he could more easily put his mouth to her cunt.

Sixty-nine wasn’t a position he had really bothered to attempt before; he knew his height would make it difficult for most partners to do it comfortably, and it just hadn’t seemed worth the trouble. Rey, however, was just tall enough to make it work—her belly against his chest and her pebbled nipples grazing his abdomen with every salacious bob of her head down his shaft, the sensation of her tongue and the back of her mouth from this new angle a novel delight.

Just as novel was the new way he had to lick her, his chin against her mons and his nose brushing her inner lips; the complete inverse of what he was used to. He still seemed to be doing okay though, if the flex of her thighs and the hitch of her hips was any indication.

They fell into a matching rhythm, the movement of her head and the suck of her mouth mirroring the twirl and rub of his tongue. It was a fascinating experience, feeling what he was doing echoed in Rey's movement; the perfect, hot suction around his cock almost driving him to distraction.

Then a particularly overzealous bob of her head made her gag, her throat going tight around the tip of his dick in a way that made him groan, and she pulled off with a gasp to catch her breath.

“Alright?” he husked out, barely moving his lips away from her to speak, but she seemed to hear him anyway.

“Uh-huh,” she answered simply, audibly swallowing and quivering with a little moan when he rolled her clit between his lips. He immediately repeated the motion, flicking his tongue hard against the hot little bud for good measure, and was instantly filled with prideful satisfaction when her elbows buckled, laying her flat over him with a shaky squeak.

“God...” she moaned, her forehead resting heavily against his hip, like she had completely forgotten about reciprocating. That certainly amused him; that he was making her feel so good she forgot her own idea of mutual oral entirely.

She gave another moan when he changed it up; switching to broad, flat swipes of his tongue over her clit before dragging it nice and slow from top to bottom, parting her inner lips to push as deep as he could inside her and give his tongue a little wiggle.

She clenched with a gasp, her breath hot against his hip and her needy whine driving arousal straight into his guts and making his cock twitch.

“God, please,” she moaned, unsteady hitch of her hips down onto the penetration telling him that she was fighting the urge to grind onto his face, which was far more satisfying than it had any right to be.

 _I've got you sweetheart,_ he thought, his tongue sliding from her opening with a lewdly wet sound before he returned it to her clit to move in a rapid flick.

She was getting close, he could tell, her irregular breathing and the tight quiver in her belly signaling his approaching success, making him double his efforts. His tongue was going to ache by the time they were through, but he couldn't think of a better way for that to happen than getting her to come.

She let out a little cry when he seemed to hit the right stride, squirming and panting and digging her fingers into his sides until she peaked, shaking over that edge with stilted breath panted hotly against his hip.

She jerked when it suddenly dipped into oversensitive, her whole body tense until he eased up, loosening his hold on her hips and stroking one hand up her back as he relaxed the rapid flick to a slow, soft lave.

Then he rolled her gently off to the side, wiping his mouth as he sat up and leaned over her, his hand flat on the bed beside her chest.

“That didn’t go quite the way I envisioned,” she breathed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a rosy complexion.

That made him chortle, brushing his free hand over her hair gently before leaning down to kiss her. “Oh? How so?”

“I wanted you to get off too, obviously,” she mumbled against his lips, her hand finding its way into his lap and giving him a nice, slow stroke.

He hummed, a second kiss pressed to her lips as she gave him another stroke before pushing him back, sitting up as she coaxed him back down onto the mattress until she could straddle his hips and reach into the bedside drawer for a condom.

“I think you can make it up to me,” he smirked, her eyes glinting as she tore the packet open and slid the latex down his length.

“Think I can manage something, yeah,” she sighed with a little grin; beautiful, delightful woman that she was, looking like perfection personified as she rose up on her knees to guide him to her entrance.

Being inside Rey was the best sensation in existence, he decided, watching her bite her lip as she squeezed around him, resting her full weight completely down on his pelvis, burying him deep and keeping him there for a long moment with subtle, gentle rocks of her hips.

It gave him a moment to just look at her; his eyes drawn down to her chest and her soft, round breasts, her nipples pebbled and tight. Then her toned belly, then between her legs, where he could see her pink, flushed clit still shiny with his spit or her arousal or both.

She leaned back a little, giving him a better view as she rose up, letting him slide about halfway out of her before sinking back down with another tight clench.

He shuddered, reaching up to wedge the pillow more comfortably under his head, taking the strain off his neck so he could really watch.

“You like to see it, don't you?” she asked softly, drawing his eyes back up to her face. “You like to see how good it looks when you fuck me. How sexy it is to have that big cock pushing inside me.”

Heat flushed over his face at the shock of her words, practically lightheaded he was so turned on. He groaned sharply, reaching for her hips and holding her in a tight grasp, unable to resist grinding her down on the next rise and fall of her body with another strangled moan.

“Yes,” he rasped, encouraging her rhythm with his hands and the hitch of his hips. “Yes, fuck, I love it.”

She held onto his forearms for balance so she could keep her body angled back, keeping his line of sight open as he looked back down to where they were joined; the faster, harder pace as captivating to watch as it was to feel.

“Tell me what you love about it,” she murmured, a slight flush starting to appear down her chest and neck.

Fuck, she was _encouraging_ him to talk?

“God, I love everything,” he groaned. “I love how pretty your cunt is, I love how good it looks around me. I love how you _feel_ , fuck, no one's ever felt as good as you do.”

He was babbling, high on the rush of lust coursing through him, and amazed that she looked just as affected.

“You wanna come in my pretty cunt?” she asked him breathlessly, sinking down hard and grinding her clit against his pelvis, her eyes fluttering closed with a little whimper that hit him square in the solar plexus. “Or on me?”

He was a hair's breadth away from losing his goddamn _mind_ , not even having words to speak as he growled, grabbing her arm and yanking her to the side to roll her under him.

She gasped, gripping his shoulders, but her eyes were glazed with want as she looked up at him dazedly.

“I want it all,” he husked out, snapping his hips in a hard in-and-out that rocked the whole bed and left her all but mewling; hiking her knees up as high as she could against his sides and digging her fingers into his skin. “I want you to come again. Tell me, tell me what you need to get there.”

Rey's eyes slipped closed with a soft moan, arching and writhing under him until she curled up to put her mouth to his throat with a shivering pant.

“The vibe,” she husked out. “Get it out of the drawer.”

He leaned off to the side to retrieve it from the open bedside table, fumbling for the little plastic bullet vibrator before finally closing his fingers around it.

“Give it to me,” she demanded, reaching to take it from his hand.

The next thing he knew, she was shoving him away from her, and he had a moment to panic that something was wrong before she flipped onto her belly under him and shoved her hand holding the vibe down between her legs.

“Come on,” she panted, the hum of the vibe starting up and her full-body shudder telling him she was already fervently rubbing it against her clit. “Come on and fuck me, come on.”

He didn't have to be told twice, nudging her legs apart wider and pushing back inside her with a rough shove that made her gasp and groan.

God, why didn't they try this sooner? The vibrator against her clit made her tremble and clench, the jittery, fluttering spasms of her pussy making his eyes practically roll up into his head.

And yes, she was right, he liked to watch; and being able to brace his hand against the bed while the other held her hip allowed him to look down the length of her back to watch himself pumping in and out of her, her slickness shining on the condom and starting to spread messily across his pelvis.

A sudden squirm with a moan and a gasp, and a hard clench of her cunt made him grunt and shake; he was so close, electric tingles running over his skin, his balls tightening, on the precipice of release and just fervently praying he could last long enough to get Rey to come first.

“God, I wanna feel you come,” he moaned, dropping his head down onto her shoulder, his fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises on her hip. “I need to feel it, baby, give it to me.”

Mindlessly he nipped along her shoulder as she whined, then her body tensed in a sudden wave and she was there; going insanely, beautifully tight around his cock with a soft cry.

He couldn't help but moan and hiss and fuck her through it until climax gripped him too, digging his hips in against her ass in uneven, rough thrusts as he emptied himself into the condom separating them.

Rey cried and squirmed when it all became too much, shoving the still-buzzing vibrator to the side of them, her body still clenching and spamming with aftershocks that kept him reeling.

She was gasping, and he was trying not to crush her, leaning off to the side when the last pulse of his orgasm wrought itself out of him in a hard throb. A few seconds later he dazedly fumbled for the vibe in the sheets beside them, the buzz already driving him insane, and somehow managed to click the thing off.

Then there was quiet, just the sound of them panting and trying to catch their breath.

“Everything about that was amazing,” he eventually slurred, sliding his hand down to hold onto the condom as he pulled out and rolled onto his back beside her.

She just hummed, her arms tucked under her and some of her hair covering her face, clearly too sleepy to bother pushing it out of the way, so he did it for her. She barely stirred, making him smile softly before taking care of the condom and dropping it in the little trash bin beside the bed.

When he turned back she was looking at him—her gaze soft and sweet, making his heart pang—so he curled against her with a kiss to her shoulder and a content hum. He still couldn't believe he was getting to have this; that the woman that had been nothing but a fantasy for months was now his reality.

Rey sighed, nudging her head against his a little, so he pressed another kiss to her shoulder.

“Now _that_ was fireworks,” she mumbled, making him laugh at her unexpected quip. She was always so funny, and always when he least expected it.

“That’s one way to put it,” he acknowledged, angling his face up closer to hers, forehead to forehead and nose to nose.

She just giggled, brushing the tip of her nose against his before sighing again with a happy little hum.

_Happy New Year, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahh, that's it! Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this fic, and all the wonderful people who have taken the time to leave a comment! I read and treasure every one, you are all amazing.
> 
> I make zero promises about when there will be a part three, but... there will be a part three. I'm not quite ready to give up these cute nerds just yet. So definitely subscribe to the series to get notified, and make sure to follow me at the links below to keep up-to-date on my writing projects. Love you all! ❤

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this work, come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://faequeentitania.tumblr.com) and [pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/faequeentitania)! I'm happy to answer question about my fic, and will also give updates on my projects. Hope to see you there!


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